The Survivor
by ariapyrasyria
Summary: An orphan living in a refugee camp. A hot headed soldier who captures her. What could become of this? Only love can triumph in war. E/B, AH, AU.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hey, guys! This is my new story: The Survivor. Please read and review, I'd really like to know what you think!**

**Full Summary: Bella Swan has lost both her parents, in completely different ways. As a result of this, she's shut herself off completely from her feelings. When captured by soldiers from the enemy's side, she doesn't expect the feelings to come crashing back, and so strongly. What will happen when an emotionally scarred, yet defiant girl meets the maddeningly stubborn soldier? **

**All Human, Alternate Universe, OOC **

**Warning: This story might contain some dark themes about war and such. If any of this offends you, please do not read this.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Sorry to disappoint. **

**Prologue: The Survivor**

**Bella Swan**

War is brutal.

It takes away everything you know, love, have ever seen, and deposits it at the bottom of the huge basket of death.

Some people say that war is good – it benefits the people, teaches them fighting techniques, to gain land and gain money.

_Bullshit_.

I am here, a survivor of war, to tell you exactly how fucked up that notion is. War is just how the survivors describe it – not the winners, not the losers. Just the survivors. Because, really, who has the clear point of view? Certainly not the winners. They're all happy and mighty that they got what they wanted. The losers? Too scared to say anything but that they've learned from the experience.

But the survivors…now there, you have a different story.

The people who have lived on the sidelines, watched their loved ones die in front of their eyes, and kept themselves together for the sake of those around them.

This is what I am. A survivor.

But I'm not a survivor of just war – I'm also a survivor of love. Love and War – so similar, yet so different. Who else fights with all the passion in the world? Both sides intent on winning, without even a glimpse of surrender?

When I was young, I used to dream that someday, the war would stop, everyone would be happy, and my prince would come to sweep me off of my feet. Like all little girls, that dream faded away once reality hit.

But my cold, sharp, shock of reality was _nothing_ like those of other little girls, living in a world so far away from me.

My name is Isabella Marie Swan, and I am a survivor: of both love, and war.

Because that is who I am.

**A/N: So, leave me a little love and tell me what you think! Thanks! **

**P.S. It's my birthday soon – so give me a little birthday present! :)**


	2. I Am Dead

**Chapter 1: The Survivor**

**I Am Dead**

**Bella Swan**

It is not the sound of the bombs that wakes me up. No, I'm used to that by now. See, ever since I've started to live in this wretched refugee camp, the sound of the explosions is almost a lullaby to me.

It is the screaming that bothers me. The screaming of the hundreds of refugees, all in this one small building. All sleeping at the same time, yet all experiencing the same nightmare.

I can't say I don't understand, because I do. That same, terrifying nightmare that actually did happen.

Losing your family and your home and everything you ever loved and lived for is reason enough to scream yourself awake. I've done it countless times.

Fact is, the nightmares take sleep away from you, and listening to the screams of others take away all sleep completely. So living here is living in a desperate, sleepless, hellhole.

The screams and sounds of bombs make me flash back to another night in my past – a past I don't want to remember.

Unwillingly, my mind dredges up the one familiar memory that cannot seem to fade into the black, like all others.

_ That night, it was not the sound of the bombs that woke me up. Not the sound of the fast, shallow, breathing of my little sister. Not the sound of the helpless screaming, so close to me._

_Not any of those. _

_ It was the sound of the door being kicked open, guns being cocked, and my mother screaming. _

_ No words. Just…screams. _

_ "Get on the floor," someone commanded._

_ More screams. My mother cannot seem to stop screaming. _

_ "SHUT UP!" a male voice roared. "And get the fuck on the floor!"_

_ I don't think the soldiers realized that there were two more little girls in the house. _

_ I briefly hear someone grunt, "Fuck this…" and then there is the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. My mother's screaming stops abruptly. _

_ Ice flooded my body. I've heard about this happening before, soldiers storming into houses and shooting people at random, but I've never thought about it happening to me. My family. _

_ The realization that my mother is dead hit me with the impact of a battering ram. _

_ My little sister whimpers. Poor, sweet, thing, her four year old brain can hardly process what was happening. _

_ I wished that I could just clap a hand over her mouth, but it was too late. _

_ "More people," someone whispered roughly. "Kill them."_

_ "No!" I screamed, covering Jane's body with mine. "Please!" My voice is that of a broken person, cracked and pleading and begging. Only the gods know why I'm pleading with these monsters of human beings. _

_ I felt my shoulder being grabbed roughly and I was shoved to the side. Another gunshot rang out, and my baby sister's heart-wrenching wails filled the room. _

_ I freeze up, again. _

No…not both of them…not in the same night…_ my mind whispered desperately, praying that this was all some sort of horrible nightmare. _

_ I was thrown against the wall, my shoulder taking the brunt of the hit. I knew I was about to get shot and killed myself, and I welcomed it. I had no one to live for now. My father was somewhere in the army, fighting monstrous bastards like these people. He was as good as dead. My mother and sister were both dead, and now it was only me. I prayed for the relief of death. At least when I'm dead, there will be no war. _

_ I waited for the gunshot, but it never came. _

_ Instead, the pounding of feet, the banging open of windows, and masculine yells. _

_ Still, no one shoots me. _

_ For the first time, tears start to stream down my face. Why can't someone just kill me already? _

_ "Miss, are you alright?" someone asked me. _

_ I shook my head. "Are you going to kill me?" I sound like I'm pleading. Hell, I probably am. _

_ "No, Miss. We are taking you to a refugee camp." His deep voice was probably meant to be soothing, but it didn't help me. I just wanted to be dead. _

_ "Please kill me," I begged. And then everything went black._

The rest of that night is history to me. All I can remember is waking up the next morning here, in this refugee camp. And I wasn't dead.

I wasn't pretty happy about that.

There are a lot of people like me here. Sixteen-year-old girls who have lost everyone who meant something to them and have been shoved here as a result of that. Just like me. We all walk around bearing the scars of what life has given us. Some of us even do it with pride. I don't understand those who do.

Every day is routine here. We wake up, shower with whatever little water there is, sometimes not at all, are served breakfast, and then amuse ourselves until lunch.

For most people, amusing themselves consists of staring into space with a vacant look in their eyes. Shutting the world out.

I wish I could do that. Instead, I am doomed to watching the younger kids of the camp run around each other in a never-ending game of tag. Their innocent minds have not yet grasped that they have lost so much. I hope that they never do. Their innocence was the most refreshing thing in this hellhole.

While waiting for the daily breakfast mush, I observed the people around me. Everyone was moving robotically, automatically….it isn't too hard to guess why.

So many people cope by shutting everyone out. The people with the vacant stares are most successful at it. Though not everyone can achieve that level of blankness, all of us have our own methods of keeping to ourselves.

We're all dead inside. There is no question about it. I felt sad about this, but there is barely a time that I can remember before the war.

It has taken so much from me at this point. My family, my home, my feelings…I am just an empty shell now. Nothing to live for, nothing to breathe for…no reason to exist.

"Bella Swan," the jovial woman handing out bowls said. "So nice to see you." She remembered everyone by name. Only the Gods knew how she did that.

I nodded mutely, accepted my bowl, and moved on.

Some days, I don't even bother eating. It was just too difficult to stuff the disgusting meal down my throat.

I looked down at my bowl, wondering if this was going to be one of those days.

Sometimes, I wish that I had a guardian angel who knew the exact happenings of my life, both past and future. And I wish that she had been there that day, to tell me to eat.

Because I was as sure as fuck going to need it.

A shrill, blasting alarm sounded, and everyone looked up in surprise. Even those with the vacant stares were jerked out of their reveries.

No one knew what the alarm meant. I guessed that once upon a time, we had been told what to do in the event of hearing it go off, but I assumed that with all of us shutting each other out, no one really listened.

I was pretty sure we were all regretting it right now.

The alarm suddenly stopped, and left a deafening, ringing silence.

I heard the scraping of boots at the doorway to the room that every refugee was in at the moment, and I craned my neck to catch a glimpse.

Soldiers lined the walls, with more entering, and began weaving their way through the throngs of refugees.

"Alright, everyone, calm down," one of the soldiers drawled. His gun was hoisted up on his shoulder, which did not really serve to calm anyone down.

He was huge and muscular, his combat fatigues doing nothing to mask those muscles. His head was covered by a typical army cap, but little curls were peeking through the edges.

If he wasn't a soldier, I'd've said he'd be an excellent big brother.

He was quite obviously the leader of the soldiers who had invaded our refugee camp. Now why wasn't anyone trying to stop them?

His men were grabbing random refugees and towing them back to the front of the room, where they were immediately deposited in the clutches of the soldiers still standing there.

"We're just gonna take some of you outside for questioning," the leader drawled again, with a small smirk on his face.

I was absolutely positive that 'questioning' meant 'abducting.'

I shrunk against my portion of the wall and prayed that I wouldn't be taken. I didn't want to be abducted.

Or maybe I did. Would they kill me? I hoped they would. Maybe I wouldn't mind being abducted, then.

One of the soldiers was making his way over to the portion of the room where I was standing.

_No…please, no…_

I huddled further into the wall. Hopefully if I just looked at the floor and didn't make eye contact, he wouldn't notice me and I wouldn't be taken.

Again, I'm conflicted about whether to make them take me or not. If I'm taken and I put up a fight, maybe they'll kill me. But it's a slim chance. I decided on picking not being taken.

I stared at the floor with renewed passion. It was suddenly so interesting to me. I kept praying in my mind, hoping that the soldier would pass me by.

No such luck.

I felt someone's eyes on me. I didn't want to look up, but something made me. Some invisible force.

He was standing a couple feet in front of me, looking at me like I was something to eat.

_Oh, no. Fuck._

Something snapped in me, at that second. I couldn't tear my gaze away from his, though I tried to press myself into the wall so much, that I'm pretty sure I left some sort of indentation behind.

"Oh, no no no," he whispered in a reprimanding voice, striding towards me. "Don't try to hide, beautiful. It'll be okay."

I whimpered and tried to move backwards. Stupid me, I was pressed up against a wall. Bad, bad, move. Stupid little Bella.

His hand reached out and latched onto my wrist. I tried to pull it away from him, but none of that.

"Don't struggle," he chastised, and there was a melodious note to his voice. I dared to look up, and found his glowing green eyes staring fixedly at my plain, boring, and brown eyes.

I whimpered again and attempted to yank it free. Again.

His hand clamped down further over my poor bones, and I swear he sprained it or something.

"Come," he growled, dragging me along behind him. I was towed up back to the front of the room, with the rest of the terrified refugees.

"I'm done," he said to the leader, the big man with the muscles.

"What?" he asked, looking surprised. "You've only got one." He gestured towards me.

The soldier who was still torturing my wrist shrugged. "Don't want any more."

I noticed briefly that all the refugees taken were women. Young, good-looking women.

_Shit._

This realization made me struggle even more, but the soldier just effortlessly pinned my arms to my sides. Now I can't even move them at all.

Goddamnit, he was strong. I thought I could feel my arms losing circulation.

He leaned close to me, and I swore I could hear my heart beat get about ten decibels louder.

"I don't want to hurt you, beautiful," he whispered, his breath ghosting my ear. "But if you keep struggling, I just might."

His hands bent my wrist backwards, showing me just how he might hurt me.

I whimpered with the pain of it.

He moved away from me and released one of my arms, but kept a strong hold on the other wrist.

I didn't try to struggle after that. I didn't want the pain of it.

My mind was in a haze as I was dragged outside the refugee camp. It had been so long since I actually stepped foot out of its gates. All I registered was the panic that flooded through me, and the prayer for death.

"Get in." The soldier pushed me towards a huge army vehicle, too high for me to climb up into.

I just looked at him incredulously. Does he expect me to jump or something?

_Oh, fantastic. Even through the panic, I can still think sarcastically_.

He chuckled, and though I already hated him, it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. "Oh, silly me. You can't get into that."

Without any warning, he grabbed me around the waist and bodily hoisted me into the army vehicle.

I stopped breathing. He deposited me on the edge of a seat, and then climbed in himself.

He chuckled again, looking at me. "You look so frightened," he said smoothly.

"Please kill me!" The words spilt from my throat before I could do anything to stop them.

His green eyes widened for a fraction of a second. "You _want_ to be dead?"

"Who doesn't?" Again, I had no control over the words that came from my mouth. Apparently, my brain had decided on an impromptu vacation.

"Why would you say that?" he genuinely looked confused, and I stifled the urge to laugh.

What was wrong with me? I had just been abducted, yet I had an urge to laugh. Maybe I really am delusional and suicidal. Or maybe I'm just begging for death that much.

With a sudden lurch, the vehicle began to move. Through the darkened windows, I could see the faint outline of the refugee camp. I heard the ring of a gunshot, and I flinched.

Realizing that I was apparently alone in the army car with the soldier who had just abducted me, I scooted as far as I could away from him without actually leaping out of the car.

"If I tell you, will you kill me?" This time, I said the words of my own choice. I was actually begging for death. I wanted it. I craved it. I needed to be released from this life.

It was clear that that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

"No." His jaw tightened. "I'm not going to kill you, and I'm going to make sure no one else does either. You're going to stay alive."

I felt wetness streaming down my face, and only briefly registered that I was crying.

"Please?" I begged. I was shameless, begging for death. "Just shoot me. _Please_."

I vowed to myself I wouldn't speak such long sentences anymore. Maybe if I stayed mute, it would annoy him enough to kill me.

"Why do you _want_ to die?" He sounded incredulous, and I wanted to laugh at his stupidity. Didn't everyone who lived the wretched life of a refugee want to die?

I simply turned my head away from him and stared at the black piece of plastic that was supposed to be a window. I could faintly see outlines of buildings, but I had no idea where I was being taken.

I had no intention of trying to escape. I knew that if I tried for long enough, someone would kill me. Maybe I could even get my hands on someone's gun and shoot myself, hopefully accurately.

I wished for death so much.

He exhaled, a sound of frustration. "Answer me," he commanded.

I didn't give any indication that I'd heard him.

"Goddamnit, answer me!" His hand suddenly grasped my face, wrenching it around so I had no choice but to face him.

I cried out with pain and futilely tried to free myself.

"You'll do what I say, when I say," he growled at me, his eyes blazing with anger. "Don't even fucking _think_ of disobeying me."

A shiver ran through my body, and I was sure he felt me shiver. He let go of my face, leaving a burning sensation where his hand was. I didn't like it, but refused to try and soothe my face in front of him. It was bad enough that I'd given an indication that I was in pain.

I certainly didn't plan on doing _anything_ he asked.

"Tell me your name," he demanded.

I refused to look at him, just as I refused to speak to him. I didn't turn away this time, for fear that he would hurt my face again, but I didn't make eye contact either.

He grabbed my wrist, encasing it in his hand. "Tell me your name. _Now._" He bent my wrist backwards, and I had to swallow another wail of pain.

I refused to let him see that he was causing me pain.

"Tell me." He bent my wrist further backwards. Tears streamed unchecked down my face.

I wanted the pain to stop.

"Bella," I choked out. Mercifully, he let go of my hand. I cradled it to my chest, trying to make the pain go away.

"Fitting," he mused, looking me up and down. I didn't like the way his eyes roamed over…certain parts of my body.

I shuddered. I knew that they'd only taken women from the refugee camp for a reason, but I'd prayed that he was different. Turned out he wasn't.

"Why were you in the homeless camp?" he asked.

I turned away from him again. I didn't like those piercing green eyes holding my gaze. It was too uncomfortable. It felt like he was reading my soul, finding each and every one of my secrets just by looking at me.

I tried to answer in the littlest number of words possible. "War."

He chuckled again. "I surmised as much. Was your entire family there?"

I shook my head, still turned away from him.

"What happened to them?"

"Dead," I whispered. It still hurt to talk about them, even after four years. I didn't think the pain would ever go away.

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I think you and I both know that that doesn't really do anything," he said dryly.

I looked at him out of surprise. Back when I'd actually talk to people at the refugee camp, they would always say that they were sorry when they found out what happened to my family.

But this strange soldier didn't say that. In fact, he seemed to know that saying sorry never does anything. It was like he understood what it was like to lose family – to lose everyone you cared about.

His eyes examined me again. I turned away, not liking the feeling.

The army car stopped, so I assumed that we were at our destination.

He opened the door and jumped out. He held his hand out to me, to help me get out as well, but I refused to touch his hand voluntarily.

Instead, I jumped out by myself, landing a bit heavily on my feet. But I didn't show it.

He looked at me curiously before grabbing my wrist again. I had to squash down my urge to struggle.

He led me through the door of a building, into a series of hallways that were so complicated, I felt like I was in a maze.

He navigated his way through like he'd been doing this for years.

Silly me, he probably had been.

"Well, Edward!" someone called, from the opposite end of the hallway. "Pretty little thing you've got there."

I turned around to see a rotund, balding man with a jovial expression on his face.

"Hello, Marcus," the soldier said quietly. Apparently his name was Edward. Huh. Odd name. But he didn't stop walking in the opposite direction.

He turned into another hallway, leaving Marcus behind.

Edward fished for something in the pocket of his army fatigues, and then pulled a key out. Stopping at the nearest door, he unlocked it and led me inside.

I was standing in a very expansive room, unlike those of regular army barracks. It was nearly all white and silver, with a couple black colored things scattered here and there.

There was a click behind me, and I realized that the door had been shut.

I spun around, suddenly afraid.

Edward walked towards me slowly, like a lion stalking his prey.

And I realized that there was no way out.

_Fuck_.


	3. Please Kill Me

**Chapter 2: The Survivor**

**Please Kill Me**

**Bella Swan**

I backed up instinctively, before realizing that there was a wall behind me.

Gosh, I really can't do anything but trap myself, can I?

"You're frightened," Edward said softly, still making his way towards me. His eyes roamed the length of my body again.

"No shit, Sherlock," I snapped, my sarcastic side suddenly getting the better of me.

Huh. Seems like the more life-threatening my situation is, the more sarcastic I am. Fantastic.

Edward's eyes widened, and then he threw his head back in laughter. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?"  
I forced myself to keep my mouth shut. Talking back wouldn't solve anything. Instead of looking at my captor, I looked around at the room I was in.

Door looking like it led off to a bathroom…huge walk in closet…nice king-sized bed…

Wait. Only one bed.

_Oh, shit._

"What are you looking at?" Edward asked, his eyebrow arched.

I refused to acknowledge that I'd heard him. Again. I made the mistake of glancing quickly at him, only to realize that he'd moved much, much, closer.

His eyes flashed with anger again. I cringed, immediately associating his anger with my pain and suffering. I cradled my already injured wrist to my chest, praying that he'd grab onto another, non-injured part of me if he had to.

"I won't hurt you, you know," he said softly, probably noticing the way I cringed.

I glared at him, my vows to be mute gone. "Really? You've already hurt me, genius! Did you ever think of that, or did that pea-sized brain of yours simply skip over that?"

I recoiled quickly, disgusted at my outburst. I wished I could just bite off my tongue.

His eyes widened again. "You surprise me, you know. One minute, you act like I'm not even here, and the next, you're acting like I'm the most disgusting creature you've ever met."

"You are," I retorted, before I had a chance to bite my tongue off.

He arched an eyebrow again, and stepped forward. I could feel the heat radiating off of his body and onto mine.

I winced. He was too close. The last time someone was this close to me, my mother and little sister had ended up getting killed.

He had angled himself slightly, so that the door was clear in my line of sight

_Bingo_.

I made sure to avert my eyes from the door, just so that he wouldn't know what I was thinking of doing.

I hopped from one foot to another in minute movements, hoping he'd notice my shifting and not pay attention to where I was going.

In a split second, I had darted away from where he'd cornered me and rushed for the door.

I threw myself towards it, begging some higher power that I would get there in time.

Apparently, no higher power was on my side today.

I felt strong arms yank me back and push me up against a wall, my back hitting the sharp edges of something.

"Thought you could get away, huh?"

His seething face was mere inches from mine, his green eyes glowing with anger, and possibly frustration.

I closed my eyes, partly in preparation for the shock of the pain and partly because I couldn't look at him anymore.

"Look at me," he commanded. Exactly the opposite of what I couldn't do.

I stayed with my eyes closed. Maybe I could try again.

"Let go of me," I countered.

"I'm not that stupid," he sneered.

My eyes remained closed. I felt his breath ghost across my face, and I was tempted to peek at what he was doing. But then I felt a small, soft, touches, first to my temple, then to one cheek, and then the other…

I opened my eyes. He was tracing the lines of my face, looking at me like I was some sort of delicacy to eat.

"Don't fucking touch me!" I shrieked, attempting to push myself away from him.

Instead, he grasped my hips tighter, pushing me towards him. My hands, still trying to push him away, were trapped between us, flat against his chest.

Or should I say, wall of muscle. He apparently had a lot of that, judging from what my hands were feeling.

"Are you going to try to run again?" Edward whispered into my hair. I shivered.

"Get away from me," I said, but it sounded more like a plea, even to my own ears.

He made no move to step back, or let go of me.

"If you don't let go of me, I'll scream," I threatened, having nothing else to threaten him with.

He chuckled, the sound making my skin crawl – with pleasure or disgust, I had no idea. "Go ahead. No one's close enough to hear you, anyway."

I had no idea if he was bluffing or not, but I knew I wouldn't get much help in a soldier camp, anyway.

I shivered, disliking the amount of contact between his body and mine, but he did nothing to alleviate my discomfort.

"Look," I said, trying for some sort of reasonable compromise. "Unless you want me to suicide, you're going to have to learn how to compromise. Let go of me, and I might start talking."

Edward just looked at me, his face impassive. I searched his eyes, wishing that I could know what he was thinking.

"You're smart," he said. "Beautiful and brilliant…dangerous combination."

"I don't have to be dangerous to you," I said, still working for that elusive agreement. "If you comply to some of my requests, I'll comply to some of yours…but I'll be selective."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"I'm not stupid, like you just said," I told him. "I know why you only took young women from that camp. I may not talk much, but I do notice things."

This was, in fact, the most I'd talked for three years. Odd.

"I should've known you wouldn't be fooled," he said. He leaned forward, his face buried in my hair.

I cringed. "See, this is what I'm talking about. If you respect my personal space and do as I ask, I'll talk. If you don't I'll shut down and it'll be like I'm not even here."

He gazed at me, his eyes calculating and hard. I forced myself not to recoil in expectance of pain.

Slowly, he stepped away from me, but still within arm's reach. His hands dropped from my hips, and I was able to stand straight.

I nodded. "That's better. Now if you step back a little more, I'll be able to find a seat somewhere, since my legs are about to kill me."

He backed away a little more, giving me just enough room to squeeze out of the corner he had me in.

I settled myself in a very comfortable looking armchair and looked expectantly at him.

"So?" I asked. "As long as I'm talking, you might as well talk too."

He slowly crossed to where I was and sat on a chair opposite me. "Tell me about yourself."

"More specific, please," I requested. "I don't do questions like that."

He sighed. "What happened to your family?"

I flinched, the memories pouring back into my head. "Your people," I said calmly. "Your people happened."

"What does that mean?" he asked, looking confused.

"Soldiers from your side," I said, struggling to keep the hate from showing in my voice. "They killed my mother and sister. End of story."

"Why?"

I looked at him incredulously. "Did they need a reason? They just stormed in and took lives. That's _it_. No fucking reason."

He looked surprised at my swearing. "I didn't know you swore."

"I didn't know the soldiers from your side were civilized enough to talk," I shot back. Hey, as long as I was talking, might as well use the sarcasm.

He laughed suddenly. "My, you are a feisty one. So, how old are you?"

"How old are _you_?" That's right. I wasn't divulging any information before he did himself.

"Nineteen," he said. "Twenty next June."

"Sixteen," I said. "Seventeen in September."

"So you're birthday's soon, then?"

"Yup. Don't tell me you're going to give me a present."

"Would you like one?"

"How about letting me go?"

"Not about to happen."

"See, nothing that I'd want, then. No present needed."

He just looked at me, probably surprised that I was talking so much. Truthfully, it felt good to talk after so long of just _not talking_. I'd missed human communication, but there wasn't much of that in a refugee camp.

There was a silence as he regarded me, his eyes staying locked on mine. I eventually looked away, not able to stand the blazing green of his gaze.

I looked around the room for something to focus on, and found a picture set on the mantelpiece above a fireplace. I couldn't make out exactly who was in the picture here, but there were three figures, all dressed in army fatigues. I guessed that one of them was Edward.

"You're pretty, you know?" he said, breaking the silence.

I scoffed. "What a _nice_ thing to say, my abductor. I wonder what else you could flatter me with. Perhaps freedom?"

"You're not a slave," he said, his brows furrowed.

"I might as well be," I retorted. "I can't leave this place. I can't even leave the room. You touched me against my will."

"I could do a lot worse to you," he said angrily. "You don't even know what you're talking about."

_And…cue muteness,_ I said to myself. I stared at him in stony silence, waiting for him to figure out what was wrong.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, fine, I'm sorry. Please talk."

"Do that again, and I'll sew my own mouth shut."

"Wouldn't that be painful?"

"No less painful than talking to you."

He smirked. "You'll get used to it over time. After all, I really am an amazing person."

"Arrogant bastard," I muttered.

He grinned and got up from his chair. Instinctively, I shifted backwards in my chair, but he noticed. He took a step back, to my great relief.

"I'm going to go shower," he said. "Feel free to amuse yourself." He gestured towards the bookshelves that I'd previously been slammed into.

I nodded, and he disappeared through the door that I'd assumed was the bathroom.

I curled my legs up to my chest, hugging my knees. It was the first time I'd been alone since the soldiers had come to the refugee camp, but I knew I wasn't truly alone – Edward was only a couple yards away from me.

I wanted to mourn the loss of my quiet life at the refugee camp, but in all honestly, I couldn't find it in myself to do so. I knew, that sooner or later, I would have had to leave the refugee camp, but I was just a little pissed off that it was sooner rather than later. Even if I didn't particularly like the soldier who'd abducted me, I knew he was at least willing to compromise with me…until something else got the better of him.

I was jerked out of my reverie by someone throwing the door open.

A blond man was standing in the doorway, looking at me with surprise.

"Oh, hi," he said. "Are you Edward's?"

"I'm not his possession," I seethed. "I'm Bella."

"Right…sorry," he said. I noticed that he had piercing blue eyes, which kind of suited his chin-length blond hair. "Could you just tell him that Jasper stopped by?"

"Will do," I said. He turned around to leave, but I stopped him. "Hey, wait."

Jasper froze with his hand on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

"Do you feel like telling me how long it will be until I get out of here?"  
Jasper smiled a small, sad, smile. "I wish I could tell you, but I honestly don't know."

"Did you take one of us too?"

He looked confused.

"Did you also take someone from the refugee camp?" I clarified.

"Oh. Well, um, yeah…" he rubbed the back of his neck, looking very uncomfortable.

I sighed. "Disgusting little creatures," I muttered, soft enough so he couldn't hear me. "I'll tell Edward that you stopped by," I said aloud to him.

"Thanks. Nice meeting you, Bella," Jasper told me.

I smiled wryly. "I wish I could say the same, but I can't."

He smiled understandingly before walking out. I resumed my position of curled up legs on the armchair, resting my forehead onto my knees.

I wondered briefly if I would ever be allowed out of this room that I was in right now. Due to my attempt at freedom, I doubted it would happen for a long time, but hopefully I would find another way to escape in the meantime.

Of course, if I couldn't escape, there was always the option of suicide. I knew it would take a lot of planning and a lot of strategy, but the end result would surely be worth it. The chances of getting caught by Edward were astronomical, mainly because he would be sure to keep an eye on me at all times. So suicide was all but out of the picture.

I eased myself out of the chair and began walking around the room, pacing an invisible line in front of the bookshelves. I had too much pent up energy to just sit still. This entire place was making me anxious; making me want to throw something. Maybe, it would hit the intended target of the abductor.

I began focusing on the line my feet were creating in the carpet – it gave me something else to focus on other than this situation.

_Maybe this is all a dream, and I'll wake up tomorrow back in the refugee camp. _

_ Yeah, right. And maybe the war didn't happen after all. Totally. _

_ No, really. Maybe this is actually all a bad dream, and everything will go back to normal. Maybe I'll be able to—_

"Why are you pacing, Bella?"

"Oh SHIT!" I yelled, jumping backwards. Edward was standing right behind me, with a smirk on his face. And only wearing a towel.

_Shit…_

Without realizing it, I let my eyes travel down from his face, down to his neck, then his chest…Oh wow. If there was an award for the most muscles, I'm sure he would win it. He had an eight pack. And he was seriously ripped.

My eyes wandered down further, taking in the deep V of muscles leading to just under the towel…

"See something you like?"

My traitorous eyes snapped back up to his face, and I blushed. "You startled me."

"I know," he said, smirking.

"Don't do that. And put on clothes."

"Aw, don't tell me you didn't like me without the clothes."

"I'll throw something at you if you don't go put on clothes," I threatened.

He smirked at me again. God, I wanted to rip his face off.

_Or maybe kiss his undeniable lips._

_SHIT! Where the hell did that come from?_

I blushed again, but I turned away. Edward walked back into the bathroom with his clothes, and I could feel his eyes on me even when my back was turned.

I groaned when I heard the bathroom door close. What the hell was going to happen to me?


	4. Where Am I?

**Chapter 3: The Survivor**

**Where Am I?**

**Bella Swan**

After the shock of seeing Edward half-naked, my brain was still struggling to function.

I couldn't deny it – he was definitely good looking. Did that mean I was suddenly going to jump into bed with him? Absolutely not.

On one hand, I was his abductee. He could do whatever he wanted with me, and I would have pretty much no way to stop him. I could try running, but I saw where that got me before. I didn't think I would be trying that again.

The last option – suicide. Or, I could convince someone to kill me. I doubted that would work. And again, my options were limited.

I sighed and curled back up on the couch. This was going to be a little tough to live out. I didn't even know what would happen to me anymore.

Edward emerged out of the bathroom – fully clothed, thankfully. He came to sit on the chair opposite me.

"So, what would you like to do?" he asked.

"Other than get out of here?" I glared at him. Yes, I was back, and in full angry mode too.

"I dare you to try it," he challenged me.

"I dare you to give me a ten minute head start." I raised an eyebrow.

"You know I can't do that."

I curled into myself even more, almost as if I was trying to protect myself. I looked around again, just for something to look at other than him, and my eyes fell on the bed. Involuntarily, I shuddered. That would, no doubt, be the bed where my innocence was taken. Though Edward seemed to be acting moderately nice right now, I knew it was only a façade that wouldn't last that long.

"Talk to me, Bella," Edward commanded.

I just glared at him again. "I am – well, I was."

"Tell me about yourself," he pushed.

"You know what you need to know. It's your turn. Tell me about yourself," I echoed his words back to him.

"You know what you need to know," he said stonily, repeating my words back to me.

"No, I don't," I retorted. "I don't know why you fight in this war. I don't know where you come from, what your family's like, what your childhood was like, anything."

"Why do you need to know all that stuff?"

"Why do you need to know all that stuff about _me_?" I countered.

The corner of his mouth lifted up into a half smile. "You're interesting."

I nodded. "There you go. You're interesting too."

He sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll tell you about myself."

"Well, praise be," I muttered sarcastically. He raised an eyebrow at me. I smiled. "Please, tell."

Edward took a deep breath and exhaled. "Well, I'm nineteen. You know that. I was born in Chicago, but the war broke out when I was seven. I think my childhood was a lot like yours, because I never knew my father, and I don't know where my mother is now."

"What happened to her?" I asked.

"I don't really know," he said, running a hand through his hair. I had a sudden urge to feel it, but I pushed that thought away. "It was just…she was there one day, and gone the next. I'd gone to school like always, and when I came back, she was just… gone."

"Did you have any siblings?"

He hesitated, and I could tell it was a touchy subject, but I didn't feel any guilt for asking. "Well…it's kind of complicated."

"I can keep up."

He pushed a hand through his messy hair again. "My mom got pregnant when I was four. I don't remember what happened, but she lost the baby."

"Who was the father, if you didn't know yours?" I asked.

Edward shook his head. "I never knew. I didn't have the sense to ask back then, and by the time I realized that she couldn't have impregnated herself, it was too late to ask."

I was silent for a minute. I felt sad at hearing his story, but it wasn't unlike those brought about by the war. Something that all children of refugee camps learned quickly was that war spares no one – young, old, male, female – all of them are subjected to the utmost horrors.

"Jasper and Emmett, two other soldiers, they're like my brothers now. I don't know what I'd do without them," he said softly.

The name Jasper rung a slight bell. "Oh, right, Jasper came looking for you," I said.

"Oh. Did he say what he wanted?"

I shook my head. "So why are you a soldier?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I wanted to be in the army. I wanted to fight."

"Why?"

"I…I don't know if I want to talk about it."

I nodded. "That's fine. I'm happy that you were able to tell me that much."

Edward regarded me again. "You're strange, you know?"

"I appreciate the compliment," I said sarcastically.

"No, really. You're surprisingly calm for someone who's been abducted."

"You can't read my mind," I retorted. "So you wouldn't be able to tell."

"In that case, you're extremely good at hiding your emotions. Don't you feel even a bit afraid of me?"

"I thought we already went over that."

"What, that you're afraid of me?"

"Keep talking, and I'll cut my own tongue off."

"If you do that, I'll kill you."

"Good, then maybe I will cut it off."

There was a moment of silence.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked me.

I shrugged. "Would I be?"

"You can't seriously want to die, do you?"

"Please don't try telling me that you've never had suicidal thoughts since the war started."

He ran a hand through his hair again. I was starting to realize it was more of a nervous habit. "Okay, I have, but that stopped. Why do you want to die?"

I didn't say anything. This was the point where I would shut up. I was already a bit angry with myself for revealing that death would be an acceptable option, but I guess he already knew that.

"Please answer me," he said politely.

I remained silent.

"Please?" he asked. He was moving closer, his eyes sparkling.

I closed my own eyes. I didn't want to look at him.

"Bella…" his crooning voice reached my ear, and I felt his hand on my face. Gently, he was turning me towards him. I kept my eyes closed.

"Beautiful," he whispered. I shuddered minutely, and tried to back away, but I couldn't really do that with my eyes closed.

I opened my eyes and gasped. He was much closer than I expected. I instinctively threw myself backwards, but was met with the armrest of the couch.

_Stupid fucking couch._

"Get away from me," I said, but my voice shook a little bit. I didn't want him near me. No. Even if he'd agreed to respect my personal space, he sure wasn't doing so now.

"Answer me, then," he commanded.

"See? This is what I'm talking about," I said angrily. "You're not honoring our little agreement. You agreed to respect my personal space! If you can't even do that, how the hell am I—"

The flow of angry words was stopped by Edward's mouth crashing down on mine.

_What. The. Hell._

I didn't even have time to react. One second, I was ranting at him, next, I couldn't even breathe.

He'd pushed me over so that I was under him, my back against the couch, his hands holding my hips down. His mouth hungrily attacked mine, nipping at my bottom lip.

I couldn't push him off me, but not for the lack of trying. He was simply too fucking strong. I kept pushing, but he didn't even seem to notice that I was fighting him.

I felt his tongue poke at my lips, pushing them apart slightly. He was trying to shove his tongue into my mouth, and I wasn't going to have that.

I brought my leg up and kneed him right where it hurts the most. He let go of me, and I took the very welcome opportunity to jump up from the couch.

"What the hell was that?" I screamed. I backed away from the couch.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Edward muttered. "I couldn't help myself."

"Asshole!" I shrieked. "I thought you would stay away from that!"

"Look, I'm sorry!" he yelled back at me. "It's not my fault I'm attracted to you – and by the way, that fucking _hurt_."

"Good," I said vindictively. "I really hope it did. You can't just _do_ that!"

"I'm pretty sure I can," he said, getting up from the couch. "You can't stop me."

"What type of monster are you?" I demanded. "You're treating me like I'm not a human being!"

"I could be treating you worse," he said darkly, echoing his words from earlier.

I couldn't believe it. I'd thought that I would actually be able to live with this fucker, and then he goes and ruins it.

My mind was screaming so many curse words that I'm sure I would have broken some sort of record.

"You're an asshole," I told him. "A complete motherfucking asshole." I reached behind me for the doorknob and yanked it open. I was done with this place. I was going to attempt to get out if it cost me my life.

To delay him by a couple seconds, I yanked the nearest chair and pushed it behind me so that he would have to move it to follow me.

I ran for my life, quite literally. I had no idea where to go – the hallways of this place were an impossible maze. I could only hope and pray that I was getting nearer to an exit with every second.

The corridors were empty. No one was about, not even maids or staff. No one would be able to help me.

His pounding footsteps grew louder behind me, spurring me on to run faster. I threw myself through doors, down halls, searching for some sort of natural light or someplace to hide. I prayed to all the deities in heaven that he wouldn't catch me, because I knew, that this time, I wouldn't be able to work out an agreement with him. He would just lock me up or tie me down.

The footsteps got closer and closer. My lungs were burning, pushing me to give up, but I couldn't.

I was yanked backwards into the confines of his arms.

"I told you not to try it again," he said, his voice shaking with anger. His arms were painful around me, cutting of my ability to breathe. Without another word, he threw me over his shoulder and began striding back to his room.

I didn't even bother to scream. Who would've heard me? I just let myself enjoy the last pain-free moments, because there was no doubt that I would be hurt sometime soon.

I was set down rather roughly, sending a shot of pain into one of my ankles. I tried to put as much distance as possible between me and angry Edward, but he wasn't having that.

For the second time that day, I found myself pushed up against a wall. I tried to struggle, but he pinned my arms to the wall above me.

"You shouldn't've tried to run," he snarled. "You're just making it worse."

I tried to move my legs to kick him or something, but he pushed his hand into my stomach, knocking all the air out of me.

I whimpered.

"I'm really considering going back on that promise not to hurt you," he growled.

"Get the fuck off of me," I said, trying to sound intimidating, but it only came out as weak.

He chuckled darkly. "I don't think so. You brought this on yourself – you tried to run."

"You attacked me," I said through clenched teeth. "I'm sure that constitutes some sort of retaliation."

"I'd hate to hurt you…" he trailed off dangerously, his hand releasing my waist and reaching up to my face. "You can't run away like that."

I didn't even answer him. I was too busy trying to ignore the pain coming from my left ankle. I was pretty sure I'd sprained it.

"I just did," I growled. "What are you gonna do about it, huh?"

Edward looked down at me with an infinitely dangerous look on his face. Before I could even think about punching him, he had slammed his mouth down on mine once more.

My shrieks were muffled to the point where even I couldn't hear them anymore. It was of no use, trying to get him off of me, because my hands were pinned above me, and my legs might as well have been rendered useless. In addition to having his hands trap mine, his hips were pushing into mine so hard that if I'd decided to lose the use of my legs, his weight alone would hold me up.

So I surrendered. I didn't fight back, didn't move. I shut myself down, just as I had when he had abducted me.

He seemed to be sensing my resistance, because he pressed the advantage and poked his tongue between my lips.

_Passive-aggressive time,_ I thought. I bit down on his lip, hard.

"Ow!" he roared, yanking his mouth from mine. "What the hell?"  
I just looked at him. I felt like doing some sort of victory dance, but given that I couldn't exactly move, that was out of the question.  
"You just _bit_ me!"

I just kept looking at him, and as I did, I realized something. Gone was the nice young man that had agreed to respect my personal space, and replacing him was the asshole of a soldier that had dragged me away from the refugee home.

And Mute Bella was back.

That was who I would be, now. I wouldn't talk, wouldn't respond to him, wouldn't fight – I would be a rag doll, as far as he could tell.

"Oh, so you're not going to talk, are you?" he said aggressively.

No answer.

Edward sighed. "Fine. I guess I can put your mouth to more useful things, then."

I quite literally had to clap my hand over my own mouth to keep from screaming expletives at him.

He let go of my wrists and let them fall back to my side. I winced a little bit, because they had started hurting again.

Fortunately, he stepped a little bit away, so that he was no longer holding me against the wall.

"I don't trust you enough to leave you alone," he said.

I didn't even look at him. Instead, taking him by surprise, I pushed him away from me, flounced over to the couch that I'd curled up on recently, and flopped down on it.

He followed me to where I was sitting, but didn't sit on the same sofa. For that, I was grateful.

"You realize, that, by running, you just made things infinitely worse, right?" Edward stated.

I let his words slide past me, instead focusing on the features of his face. With all the energy spent not talking and not looking and fighting him off, I hadn't really gotten a good look at him.

To compare him to one of Michelangelo's carvings would be a gross understatement. He had the features of an angel. High, narrow, cheekbones, royal and regal, led to rounded cheeks and full lips. His jawline was so defined it could have been used as a weapon. And then his eyes…oh god, they were like the trees of a welcoming forest; the cool, lush, green, inviting the wanderer to take a small stroll and lose herself in the depths of nature. Without his army cap on, his hair looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. I hadn't noticed, but it wasn't brown, like I'd originally thought. It was a darker shade of red, so dark that it almost looked brown. With the light shining, it was a sparkling bronze.

If I didn't already hate him so much, I might be attracted to him.

_You are attracted to him, remember? You liked what you saw when he was shirtless._

I pushed my inner annoyingness away. I refused to think like that.

"Have you gone mute again?" Edward asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking what he guessed.

He sighed. "I guess you have gone mute. And it's my fault, isn't it?"

I looked at him impassively. I was sure that the expression on my face was like so many of those at the refugee camp.

So empty, so lost.

Always searching, never found.

Now that would become my life.

His hand twitched minutely, and the small movement caught my eye. It was like I was tuned to every small movement that he made – watching out for when he would grab me next.

Edward sighed again. "So what am I supposed to do now? Endure the mute version of you?"

"Take me home."

My guess was right; Edward did a double take at hearing me speak. He didn't think I was going to talk for a long time.

"But…but you don't have a home," he protested. "You're a war refugee."

I didn't even look at him. Instead, my eyes fell again to the bed in the center of the room; a stark reminder of where – _and who_ – I'd have to sleep near tonight.

He saw me looking, and smirked. "You know you're going to have to sleep there," he taunted me. "And you know I'm sleeping there too."

My eyes still refused to sway in his direction. If he wanted to be arrogant about it and attempt to force me, that was spectacular.

_Look at all the fucks I don't give_, I thought at him. I just wished I could have said it out loud.

I wondered what time it was – and how long it would be until the nighttime torture started.

Seven o'clock. Not long. Not long at all.

I didn't want to be in the same bed as him. Not after seeing him half naked. Not after he forced his mouth on mine.

What if he did it again? What if he tried something more? I was essentially powerless here. I couldn't stop him.

I felt the helplessness wash over me, coating me in a deep thicket of despair. I was drowning, and I couldn't do anything about it.

I had to resign myself to whatever would happen. Nothing could help me now – I couldn't scream for help, I'd already tried running, and appealing to the soldier's nice side obviously didn't get me anywhere.

I was all out of options.

_Time to face the fucking music_, I thought wryly.

**A/N: Hi. I probably will never post another AN on this story again, but I need to apologize. This chapter's tone is a little bit swingy. I was experimenting, and this is how it ended up. I promise you, it will never happen again. **

** In other news, go read Green Eyes! I love you all :)**

******Also, I've created a Twitter account for this story: ariapyrasyria. Follow me if you want to know when I'll update and such!**


	5. May I Die Now?

**Chapter 4: The Survivor **

**May I Die Now?**

**Bella Swan**

"You know, sitting there like a statue isn't going to change the fact that you need to go to sleep."

I ignored him. Maybe I could just sleep while sitting like a statue.

"You're not going to fall asleep sitting there like that," he noted.

Damnit.

Edward sighed. "Look, Bella, I'm not going to hurt you again—"

I turned to look at him incredulously. Even if I wasn't talking, my expression spoke volumes.

He ran a hand through his hair, a mark of his frustration. "Alright, maybe I said that before too. But seriously, you need to sleep. Stop being so stubborn."

He walked to his dresser, picked up a random shirt and sweatpants, and held them out to me. "If you don't dress yourself in these, I will."

Ah, he knew how to threaten.

I gave him my most evil stink-eye and took the clothes from him. He smirked. I scowled.

With as much dignity as I could muster, I walked into the bathroom and locked the door firmly behind me. I didn't want any chance for him to walk in when I was changing.

The T-shirt and sweatpants were actually extremely comfortable, despite the fact that the T-shirt was more like a dress on me.

I sighed. He was right. I _had_ to go to sleep sooner or later. I couldn't stay awake forever – though I really wished that were a possibility.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the walls of his room. His expression was so heartbreakingly sad that I felt the urge to run to him and hug him.

I squashed down that urge quite quickly when he turned back to look at me.

His eyes roamed over me, drinking in all the details. I could feel my blush start to heat up my body, like his eyes were leaving a trail of fire wherever they went.

"Pick a side," he said, gesturing to the bed.

Instinctively, I picked the side closest to the door.

Edward chuckled. "No," he said, shaking his head. "You don't get to be closest to the door."

I made a face at him, which only made him laugh harder.

"Come on, get over here."

I grudgingly walked to the other side of the bed and pushed him out of the way. Glaring one last time for good measure, I lay down delicately, as if sleeping in a bed of thorns.

He laughed again. "Seriously, relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

I turned my face away from him and closed my eyes. I heard him peel back the covers and get in himself, making the bed sink a little lower with the combined weight.

I scooted my body all the way to the opposite edge of the bed, as far as I could get without falling off.

"Sleep, Bella," he told me. "You need to be awake for tomorrow."

I scowled to myself in the dark. Maybe I would fall asleep just to annoy him.

As the hours of the night flew by, his breathing became slower and steadier, a sure sign that he'd fallen asleep. A thin gleam of moonlight crept in through the window, giving the lit floor an ethereal glow.

It was so silent, I could have heard a pin being dropped two rooms down.

I felt something warm hit the back of my neck, and twisted around to see what it was.

Edward was about two inches away from cuddling me, and I was about two seconds away from kneeing him in the balls. Again.

His breath hit the back of my neck once more, and I shivered. Quietly, I hoisted myself out of the bed and stood up.

He was spread out on the bed like a sloth over a tree. I giggled inwardly at the analogy, since he really did remind me of an animal.

I was standing in the dark, awake, and he was sleeping. I pondered the possibilities. If I was silent enough, maybe I could slip outside the door and make my escape.

Silently, I padded to the door, jumping when I heard the bed creak. I froze in place, eyes wide, waiting for an angry Edward to descend on me.

But nothing happened. He must have just shifted in his sleep.

I reached the door after what seemed like an eternity. I twisted the handle, praying that the door wouldn't make a noise as it opened.

Turned out I didn't have to worry about that. The handle didn't even move.

The door was locked.

_Fuck, fuck, FUCK!_

"It's locked from the inside."

I spun around to face Edward, who was dangling a key from his left hand.

"I knew you would try this," he said, looking me over, his gaze illuminated by the minimal moonlight. "Just didn't think you'd wait till I was asleep."

I wrapped my arms around myself and glared at him. Couldn't he have just left the door unlocked?

"You're not going to get out of here until I _let _you," he hissed, swinging the key tantalizingly. "You need to understand that."

I didn't say anything.

"Come back to the bed."

At this, I shook my head.

"You need to sleep."

Stubbornly, I shook my head again.

He sighed. "Have it your way." He lifted me up bodily and quite literally _threw _me down on the bed. Problem was, I landed on the ankle that was already hurt.

I shrieked.

"What?" Edward asked, looking confused.

With tears pooling in my eyes, I yanked the ankle out from under me and placed it on the bed. Even with the minimal light, I could tell that it was swelling. And Edward could tell too.

"Shit," he breathed. "What happened?"

I shook my head, not able to talk for the tears running down my face. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing a knife into my ankle and then twisting it.

"Shit shit shit," he swore, running to the bathroom. A second later, he was back with an ice pack in his hand.

"Stay still," he commanded, and gently removed my ankle from the clutches of the bed sheets. I winced when I felt his hand run over my calf. He pressed the ice pack on my ankle, applying gentle pressure.

"Better?" he asked.

I nodded, and then held the icepack myself. He could get his hands off of me now. I tried to move his hand, but he wasn't letting go.

"Let me do it," he said softly. "You won't put enough pressure."

I scowled at him, but withdrew my own hand. Slowly, the pain began to ebb away, and the numbness stole over my ankle. I lay back, feeling suddenly very tired.

Edward's hand ran over my calf again, and I tensed up.

"Shit, sorry," he said. "Just making sure the sweatpants didn't get wet by the ice."

I relaxed minutely.

"I think you fractured it," he said a moment later. "It sure looks like that. Wanna get it looked at in the morning?"

I nodded.

"Look, I'm sorry," he continued. "I didn't know your ankle was hurt."

"Like that would have changed anything," I sneered. I couldn't help talking – the boy was pissing me off.

As expected, he jumped at hearing me speak again. "I would have been more gentle with you—"

"No, you wouldn't've. Even if I did tell you that I was hurt, you would have disregarded it."

"_You_ tried to run."

"After _you_ almost molested me."

"I couldn't help it!"  
I fell silent again after his feeble excuse. Of course he could help it. He just apparently didn't have enough self-control.

Edward exhaled, letting out a huge gust of air. "As much as you don't want to be, you're stuck with me now, Bella," he said.

And as much as I didn't want to admit it, he was right.

"Do me a favor," I said.

"Tell me."

"Don't kiss me again until I ask for it. And not just my mouth, I mean anywhere."

He seemed shocked at my request, but I wasn't backing down.

"You know there was only one purpose for raiding the refugee home, right?" Edward said.

I nodded.

"And you know they're going to _check_ and see if you're fulfilling that purpose?"

"_What_?!" I nearly screeched.

"That's what Emmett said. I'm not joking. They're going to check and see if I've taken your virginity."

I hid my face in my hands.

"Look, I tried to reason with them—"

"I'm not a virgin," I blurted out.

Now it was his turn to say, "_What_?!"

I cringed. "Don't make me say it again." Actually, I was not a virgin. See, there was this guy at the refugee camp who was very nice to me. And since the older refugees had no verbal filters around us, we heard a lot of things. And decided to try some. But it didn't mean anything – just mindless experimenting. So, in my own twisted way, I still retained my innocence. Don't blame me, I regretted it a lot. But now, I didn't think it was so bad.

"So…you're not a virgin."

I winced. Hearing him say the words made it too real to digest.

"So I don't have to worry about that part?"

I shook my head. _And thank god for it_, I added silently. The last thing I wanted was to sleep with him.

"So…I agree to the deal, then. Will you talk again?"

Again, I pondered my options. He would probably keep his end of the deal up, even if I didn't talk often. All I had to do was respond now and then, and I could return to my own shell in the mean time. Sounded good.

"Okay," I said. I could feel him physically relaxing, the tension nearly literally draining out of him.

"You should sleep now," he said. "Your ankle probably hurts a lot."

Just as he said that, the pain I'd previously been ignoring shot all the way back up to my ankle.

I winced. I wanted to ask if he was going to keep pressing the ice there, but I felt my eyes droop shut.

"Sleep, beautiful," I heard him whisper, before I drifted off into unconsciousness.

*O*

I woke up to the completely unfamiliar feeling of being cocooned in someone's arms. It was a nice feeling, though. I let myself relax for a minute before I realized _whose_ arms I would be in.

I jerked forwards with the amount of force to push Edward off of the bed - because apparently, that is what happened.

"Ow!" he yelled as he hit the floor.

I gasped. "Shit, I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to."

He crawled back onto the bed, wincing as he did so. "So, was there a reason t push me off the bed?"

I blushed. "Um…I woke up in your arms and was surprised?" It came out like a question.

Edward looked at me for a minute before he began to laugh. "So your instinct was to shove me off the bed?"

"No, I jerked forwards and apparently pushed you backwards at the same time." I couldn't help a small giggle from escaping. It was pretty funny.

"It's not funny," he said, pained. But then he smiled. "So, how's your ankle?"

I had all but forgotten my ankle. I rolled it once, testing it. "It seems fine, but I still want to get it checked out later."

"Of course. Do you want to use the bathroom first or should I?" he asked.

"Um, you go ahead. I think I'll lay down for a bit more."

He nodded and heaved himself off the bed, wincing. "Ow. I think you might have done permanent damage to my tailbone."

I merely half-smiled, not exactly willing to grace that comment with a full response. I knew I said I would talk, but he didn't have to know that I would only talk when I felt like it. And right now, I didn't feel like it.

Edward shot me a strange look before limping off to the bathroom, leaving me alone again.

I fell face-forward into the covers, letting yesterday's events wash over me. I was now in a soldier camp, supposedly as a…pleasurer…to a soldier. Edward knew I wasn't a virgin, he'd forcibly kissed me twice, and managed to break my ankle, all in one day.

Wow. I really did get things done fast.

Did I want to be here?

No.

Did I have a choice?

Also no.

What was I going to do about it?

_Ah, and there lies the million dollar question_.


	6. I'll Ask Politely

**Chapter 5: The Survivor**

**I'll Ask Politely**

**Bella Swan**

"Hey, Bella, is there a reason you're looking like the guy who just slept with the wrong girl?"

I turned over from my face-first position and shot Edward a curious look. "I'm sorry, what?"

He walked over to sit next to me on the bed. "You're face-first in the pillows. That's usually a sign of someone who just slept with the wrong person, and considering we didn't sleep together, there's no reason to be like that."

I returned my face to the comfortable sanctuary of the pillows, unwilling to grace that comment with an answer either.

"Oh, come on, I was joking," he said, and I could practically _hear_ the pout in his voice.

No sound from me.

"Bella," he whined. "You said you would talk!"

Still no sound.

"Bella, if you don't start talking, I'm going to start taking your clothes off."

I turned my face towards him and raised an eyebrow. I mean, was this guy bipolar or something? Didn't he promise to be nice?

"Are you bipolar?" I asked out loud.

"Excuse me?"

"One minute you're nice, the next, you're mean. What am I supposed to think?"

"Well, you're no different, you know?" he shot back, now angry. I _swear_ he was bipolar. "You promised you'd talk, and now you refuse to answer me!"

"I never said I'd answer every single thing you said!" I yelled, sitting up on the bed.

Edward stood up suddenly from his perch next to me and ran a hand through his hair. "How many times are we going to do this? We just keep trying to come to agreements, and we keep messing them up!"

"I didn't do anything!" I screamed. "_I_ didn't mess this one up!"

"Yes, you did," he said angrily. "You're refusing to talk. That was part of the deal!"

"If you want me to talk, try being nice," I spat at him. "Don't change your mood every five seconds!"

"Look, I don't know you, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do make you not blow up at me," he said, slightly calmer. He sat down next to me again and took my hand. "Tell me what to do."

I looked down at our hands, thoughts racing through my head. I had no home to go back to; my only shot at survival was right here, with this man. My only hope at living was learning to live with him. From there, I didn't know what to do.

"I don't know," I whispered, all the anger draining out of me. "I don't know you either. I don't know what I need to do to survive here."

"Just _live_," he said, a hint of hope in his voice. "Nothing's required of you, not from me."

"Then what do I do?"

"Live," he repeated. "With me. We'll figure this out together." He paused. "Well, I still at least need to figure out how to get you to talk."

"That's no easy feat," I said, smiling wryly. "I've been living in a refugee camp for the last four years. It isn't easy to change one's habits."

His face fell, and he turned away from me.

"But," I added. "I'm willing to try."

"That makes both of us," Edward said. He lifted me off the bed to stand up. "Shall I get someone to look at that ankle?"

I nodded. "Can I take a shower?"

"Go ahead. I'm pretty sure there are clothes for you in the closet in there," he said. He looked at me for a second.

"What?"

"If I can't kiss you, can I hug you?"

I automatically took a step back.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I wasn't thinking. I'll just go."

"No, wait," I said, not sure what I wanted to say. "I'm just…not used to people touching me. Can we put a hold on that question?"

The corner of his mouth lifted up into a smile. "Sure."

I slipped into the bathroom once I heard the door shut behind him. Just for safety, I locked the bathroom door behind me. No unexpected surprises for me.

I looked around. This bathroom was _enormous_. To one side there was the closet that Edward mentioned, then two sinks, a bathtub, a shower, and another door probably leading to the toilet closet.

Tentatively, I shed my clothes and stepped into the shower stall. It was quite complicated; it took me a full five minutes to figure out how to turn it on.

Once I figured out how to not burn myself alive, I enjoyed the feeling of the hot water. Back at the refugee home, there was only lukewarm water. There were too many of us to always have hot water.

I found some very fancy soap, and spent a good while scrubbing myself. I couldn't help it – I felt unclean. Besides, it was more than 24 hours since I had last showered.

There was some nice smelling shower gel, so I used that too. Why not, right?

Once I got out of the shower, I saw some very fluffy-looking towels hanging on a rack. God, they were _soft_.

I headed into the closet to search for some clothing. The first thing I was two more doors. One was marked 'Edward' and the other one was marked 'other.'

Huh. Guess they knew someone was already here. I opened the door marked 'other' and was immediately met with an avalanche of color.

It was like a dream-closet that I once would have cherished; now they were probably useless. I didn't know how to dress myself to look good.

Dubiously, I walked up to the nearest drawer. In it, I found bras and underwear. There were several different sizes, so I just picked the ones that fit.

Now onto real clothes. Another drawer revealed simple tank tops and camisoles. I slipped a white tank top on and began looking for pants.

I found some jeans, just simple blue ones. There were more designer-looking pairs as well, but I just ignored them. I was careful not to hurt my ankle anymore, and rolled up the leg on the hurt ankle so that the skin wasn't bothered.

I set off on a hunt for T-shirts, but found none. Apparently, captured sex slaves didn't usually wear shirts that simple. So I just settled to remain in the tank top and ask Edward for a shirt later. At least the tank top wasn't too revealing.

I hung the towel up in the bathroom and walked back into the room.

Edward and another man were waiting for me.

"Bella, this is Dr. Sullivan. He'll be taking a look at your ankle."

I didn't miss how his eyes lingered on my chest for just a _tad_ bit too long. He'd definitely be hearing about it later.

"Please sit on the bed, Bella," Dr. Sullivan said. He seemed pretty nice.

I sat on the bed and propped my ankle up. I'd already rolled up my jeans, so he didn't need to do that.

He prodded it a bit, asking me if applying certain amounts of pressure hurt. Sometimes it did, and sometimes it didn't.

"Well," he said finally. "It seems to be just be a very bad sprain. How did this happen?"

Edward immediately looked guilty. He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off.

"I tripped and fell," I said firmly. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Ah," Dr. Sullivan said. "Well, be more careful in the future. I'm going to wrap it up in bandages, but you shouldn't need crutches to walk. You can take off the bandages in about four days."

"Sounds good," I said. "Thanks."

"Don't put too much pressure on it," he advised, as he finished putting the bandage on.. "Take care."

As he walked out the door, I noticed that Edward hadn't said a word the entire time.

I turned to him. "Are you okay?"

"I feel so guilty," he said. "I hurt you."

I laughed. "It was inevitable. Don't beat yourself up. Oh, by the way, do you have a shirt I can borrow? Apparently, they don't keep T-shirts in a girl's closet."

Edward smiled. "Yeah, give me a second."

I rolled down the leg of my jeans and limped over to the couch. Edward came back in, holding a simple light blue shirt.

"Here," he said, giving it to me. I pulled it on, and it was really comfortable.

"So," I said. "What do you usually do around here?"

"I'm off duty now. I'm supposed to spend all my time with you."

I raised an eyebrow. "_Really_?"

"Hey, we can get to know each other better!"

"Sure, sure," I said. "So you wanna just ask each other questions?"

"Okay. Do I get to start?"

"Why not," I said wryly. "Let the twenty questions begin."


	7. Twenty Questions

**Chapter 7: The Survivor**

**Twenty Questions**

**Bella Swan**

_ "Why not," I said wryly. "Let the twenty questions begin."_

"Do you have a middle name?"

"Marie."

"Why Marie?"  
"It was my grandmother's name."

"What was your sister's name?"

"Do I have to answer that?"

"Yes."

"Jane."

"Her middle name?"

"What is with the sudden interest in middle names?"

"Answer the question, Bella."

"Cynthia. Happy?"

"Why Cynthia?"

"Other grandmother's name."

"What was your mother's name? Father's?"

"Renee and Charlie."

"What happened to them?"

"Renee was killed by soldiers and I'm assuming Charlie died in the war."

"You don't know for sure?"

"Nope."

"Okay, where did you grow up?"

"Syria."

"So how did you end up in a refugee camp in Iran?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask the soldiers who took me?"

"Okay, okay. Jeez. Um, what was it like growing up there?"

"Always war. I can't remember a time when there wasn't some sort of battle going on."

"Really? It started when I was three."

"That explains it. You're three years older than me."

"So, how old was your sister when she died?"

"Do I _really_ have to answer that?"

"Mhm."

"_Really_?"

"Bella, answer the question."

"Four. Happy?"

"Very."

"Are we done yet?"

"Do we have to be?"  
"Twenty questions is tiring."

"Okay, now it's your turn to ask the questions."

"But I'm tired!"

"Do you have anything else in mind?"

I pondered it. "Go outside? Enjoy the fresh air?"

Edward snorted. "You mean the dust ridden, bomb-infected air?"

"Hey, it's still outside. Amn't I supposed to get some fresh air or something?"

"Well…"

"Come on, _please_?" I gave him my best puppy eyes.

"That isn't fair!"  
"What isn't fair?" I asked, confused.

"You can't give me the puppy eyes!"

I unleashed the full force of the Bambi Eyes on him. I'd patented it at my time during the refugee camp. Extra food never hurt anyone, right?

"Oh, jeez. _Fine._ But you gotta get dressed first."

"Why—oh." I looked down and saw that I was still in the clothes that I slept in.

"There are some jeans and shirts in your closet."

"I know. And can I borrow another T-shirt?"

"Help yourself; you know where my closet is. Though I have to warn you, you'll look delicious in my clothes. I can't be held responsible for my actions."

"Shut up, Edward. It isn't funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny."

I raised an eyebrow at him and headed off towards my closet. I couldn't really look _delicious_. Who the hell looks delicious?

I pulled on a pair of jeans and a different tank top, this time a blue one. I didn't like it; it was a little more revealing than I would have preferred. It would have to do, I decided.

Edward's closet wasn't that different from mine. Same shelving, same racks, but different clothes. There didn't seem to be any personal items around, but then again, who kept personal things in closets?

Because his closet was the same as mine, I could guess where his shirts would be. Pulling out a drawer confirmed my guess. I sifted through the T-shirts, trying to find the smallest size. All of them were so big on me – they hung up to the middle of my thighs.

Picking out a simple white T-shirt, I slipped it on and headed out. On the way out, I glanced at myself in the mirror. Again, I wondered how anyone could look _delicious_.

"Ready," I said, coming out of the bathroom. "Can we go now?"

Edward was standing near the edge of the bed, frozen, and staring at me. Or, more accurately, my chest.

"Earth to Edward," I said, frustrated. "My eyes are up _here._"

"I told you you'd look delectable," he muttered.

"I thought you said delicious."

"You know what I mean."

"Can we go now?"

"Where am I supposed to take you?" he asked.

"Don't you guys have some sort of place where you all run around?"

He scoffed. "This isn't a prison, Bella."

"Then wherever you train. I want to see."

"That…might not be such a good idea."

"Why?"

"You're not supposed to walk around _those_ areas."

"Are they scared that I know how to operate a gun?" I asked cheekily.

"Well…"

I laughed and strolled over to him. "Honey, if I knew how to operate a gun, I would've used the one under your bed a _very_ long time ago."

He gaped at me, and I smirked. Guessing that it was under the bed was just a random assumption. It was where I would've hidden a gun, had I had access to one.

"I don't think there's any danger there. Can we go now?" I repeated.

"When will you stop surprising me?" He opened the door.

I looked over my shoulder. "When I'm dead."

*O*

"Okay, so this is the cafeteria."

I looked around. There were metal tables with benches attached, and a designated slot for each person on the bench. Everything was chrome-themed, giving off the impression of several dimensions. Empty stoves lined the back walls, indicating that there was no real kitchen.

"I thought you said this wasn't a prison," I said.

"It isn't."

"The refugee camp had better facilities than this."

"Point taken. We don't exactly have the best funding, if you didn't realize."

My stomach grumbled and I looked at him sheepishly. "I forgot that I was hungry."

"Come on, let's go get you food."

"From where?"

"There's a small stand a couple rooms away. No one's here right now, because breakfast is already over. We can get you something there."

"Thanks," I said, actually meaning it.

Edward looked at me funnily. "I'm technically your handler while you're here."

I scoffed. "That sounds _great_."

"Hey, don't complain. This is the best bet you'll get."

"Really?"

"If you'd been given to another soldier, betcha you wouldn't be walking right now."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You'd be…otherwise occupied."

I fell silent.

"Sorry, that wasn't really nice."

"Keep that in mind next time you want me to talk."

"Bella, look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"Cullen?" a new voice said from behind me.

Edward spun around at the speed of light and shoved me behind him. "Demetri."

"Is your slave really supposed to be out with you?"

I stiffened at the word 'slave.'

"Demetri—"

"I might have to report you, Cullen. You know I don't want to do that."

Edward's jaw clenched. "What do you want?"

The guy named Demetri nodded his head towards me. "_That_."


	8. Don't Do It

**Chapter 8: The Survivor**

**Don't Do It**

**Bella Swan**

_Edward's jaw clenched. "What do you want?"_

_ He nodded his head towards me. _"That."

I froze. Everything around me was forced to halt. It seemed as if the air around the immobile figure in front of me was swirling around in little particles, congregating because there was no movement.

Edward was tensed up in front of me, as if he was made of stone. One little push to him and he would have fractured.

"Go to hell, Demetri," he snarled suddenly, shocking me when his arms tightened around me.

"Ah, come on, Eddie, don't be a stickler," Demetri said, his tone defying the words he was uttering. "Be a nice guy and share with me."

"Fuck off," he growled, pulling me into his side. I was grateful for the extra warmth and comfort that his arms provided. "You _ever_ come near her, and I'll make sure the superiors know all about your extracurricular activities."

With a threat like that, I expected Demetri to look fazed, but all he did was scowl and turn around. Without even looking back, he yelled, "You're going to regret that, Cullen!"

"Like hell I will," Edward muttered. He looked down at me, and I say looked down because I was currently snuggled into his chest like he was some sort of stuffed animal.

"Will that happen a lot?" I asked timidly.

"Not if I can help it." The angry look on his face told me that he would do everything he could to stop occurrences like that from happening.

"Do you want to get some food?" he asked me.

I hesitated. I didn't feel like eating; my appetite had been taken away. But I knew I would need the food later.

"I don't exactly feel like eating, but I'll get something to eat later." I picked out some random food, not really caring what I was getting. I was more preoccupied by the way that Edward was standing protectively over me, glaring at any other men who looked at me. It was a bit disconcerting at first, but I was glad that I had no other encounters with someone like Demetri.

It really made me think, though. If he was this protective over me, he obviously cared about me. A lot. So did I care for him?

I pushed that thought away until later. I really didn't want to delve into any of my feelings, regardless of who they were for.

"Are you okay?" Edward asked, as he led me back to his room.

"Fine," I said.

"Are you _sure_?"

"I'm fine," I repeated. "Why are you so worried?"

He hesitated for a millisecond, then sighed. "Because you're my responsibility."

I think he was hoping that I would miss the fact that he hesitated, but I didn't. So what, did he care for me now? It certainly seemed like that. I raised an eyebrow at him, but let go of the issue for now.

"I'm not hungry right now," I said.

"I know. Just keep the food here for whenever you feel like eating."

"So…what else are we supposed to do?"

Edward shrugged. "I could always teach you how to shoot a gun—"

I clapped my hands with joy. "Teach me, teach me!"

"I was joking, Bella."

"Awww," I pouted. Despite the fact that I still wanted to get out of here, I no longer wanted to hurt Edward. Even if I knew how to shoot a gun and actually kill someone, I knew I wouldn't attempt to hurt him.

I sat down on the couch that was furthest away from the bed, careful not to hurt my ankle while doing so. It was still a little bit sore, but the cast was helping a lot.

Edward sat down across from me, staring at me the entire time.

I quirked a brow. "Is my face really that interesting?"

He smirked. "No, I was noticing the similarities between your face and a pitbull's."

I made a face at him. "So, did your soldiers take a lot of people from the refugee camp?"

"Are you asking about Demetri?"

"I just want to know if he took any of the women I knew."

He hesitated. "Do you want the truth?"

"No, fucker, lie to me."

His mouth twisted up into a crooked smile. "I think took someone, I just can't remember who. I don't know her name, but she had black hair and really pale skin. A little on the tall side, too. Very skinny."

I felt my blood run cold. "Was her name Gianna?"

Edward snapped his fingers. "That was it! How did you know?"

"We have to get her out of there!" I launched myself up from the couch.

"Whoa, hold on. What's wrong? I can assure you, she's perfectly safe wherever she is—"

"No she isn't!" I screeched, my panic starting to get the better of me. "You don't understand! She's not safe!"

Gianna Volturi was no one to be messed with. I'd hoped and prayed that she wouldn't be taken…but apparently my prayers weren't to be answered. It wasn't my place to tell her secrets, but she wasn't in the refugee camp because she lost her family. In fact, her father was one of the major players in this war, except, on the opposite side. She was there because she wanted to get away from her family and the poison that they had been creating.

If she was in the hands of the soldiers from this side, and if someone found out who she was, her life may very well be over. When she told me who she was, she made no secret of the fact that her father wasn't explicitly pleased about her running off. She had been the perfect daughter for him, and he'd wanted her to get married to someone from another country, providing the perfect war bond for them. I mean, seriously, who does arranged marriages anymore?

Edward stood up from where he was sitting and stood in front of me. "Bella, tell me what's going on. I can't just get her out of wherever she is!"

I took a deep breath, but that wasn't helping. Gianna could be easily recognized, and if that happened, she would no doubt he turned over to her father.

"She's not safe," I said. "Please, we have to help her. She can't be here!"

"Tell me _why_, Bella."

"I—I can't!" I clutched a fistful of my hair; every second that Gianna was near Demetri was another second that her life was in more danger. No doubt her father would kill her on sight or send her someplace worse to get revenge for what she did.

"Then I can't do anything until you tell me."

I screamed, a sound of pure frustration. Edward was being nothing but a hindrance right now. I had to do something.

"Edward. Get out of my way."

"Bella, tell me what the hell is going on—"

"I'm sorry," I said, right before punching him in the gut and shoving him out of my way. Yanking open the door, I rushed out into the hallway. I had no specific plan, only to find Gianna and get her out of here.

Before I could even act on that whim of a plan, I heard alarm bells start to sound, sounding eerily like the ones back at the refugee camp.

Could I have caused the alarm bells? I was still in the corridor of Edward's room, and no one could have known that I was out yet.

I heard running feet come from the hallway on my left. Just as I was about to run away from the sound, a familiar figure came barreling towards me.

"Bella!" someone screamed. I nearly sobbed with relief at hearing the voice.

_Gianna_.

No one had harmed her yet.

"Gianna!" I said. "Are you okay? We have to get you out of here, it isn't safe—"

"They know who I am," she sobbed, clutching my arm. "He figured out. They—they called my dad—"

"Shit," I whispered. This wasn't good. She'd caused the alarms. People were no doubt coming after her right now.

"We have to get you out of here," I told her. "It'll be alright. Come on, I think I know a way out."

She nodded desperately, still clutching my arm, and we began to run. I thought back to the sole window I'd seen while taking the tour. We could get out of there and run back to somewhere safe.

We were almost to where I'd seen the window when I heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking behind us.

Gianna whimpered.

The cold metal pressed into the back of my neck, and someone forced my hands behind my back. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Demetri forcing Gianna's hands behind her back as well. I closed my eyes out of defeat.

"Don't move," someone ordered.

I froze, recognizing the velvet voice. I turned my head around minutely to see that Edward was the one holding the gun to my head, and looking for all the world that he wanted to kill me.


	9. Why?

**Chapter 9: The Survivor**

**Why?**

**Bella Swan**

I turned around completely to face Edward, who was still holding a gun to the back of my neck.

"I said, _don't move_," he hissed.

"Edward—" I started. I didn't know what I was going to say, but I truly didn't believe that he would try to kill me.

"Shut up," he growled, pulling me back against him and putting a hand over my mouth. I didn't bother to fight him. I turned to face Gianna, who was being dragged away by Demetri.

The alarms had stopped, probably because Demetri had found Gianna. I didn't know what would happen to her, but I was dreading it. My eyes locked with hers, and I could only hope that I conveyed my apology and regret to her. I had hoped that we could get her out of here, but it was obviously not going to happen.

When she was out of sight and the tears had really started to fall across my cheeks, Edward began pulling me back to his room.

His grip on my waist was borderline painful, and little jolts of pain were being sent up my ankle again.

When we reached his room again, he unlocked the door quickly and thrust me inside. I backed away from him as quickly as possible; I didn't like the angry look on his face. Who knew what he would do to me now?

He still had the gun in his hand, and I wasn't going to relax until he dropped it. The last time I'd seen a gun was when my mother and sister were killed, so don't blame me for that type of reaction.

He turned around to face me, and I shrank further back. "What the fuck, Bella?" he seethed. "You didn't really bother to tell me that your friend was the daughter of Aro Volturi?"

I winced. "Can you drop the gun please?"

Edward threw the gun to the side, and it landed somewhere on the bed. "Don't you think that it would have saved you a _lot_ of trouble if you'd told me?"

"What would you have done, turned her over?" I demanded. "He and his brothers control your army. It would have been your duty to do so."

He flinched, and that was all the answer I needed.

"You wouldn't've helped. Only hindered."

He ran his hands through his hair and looked at me again. "Don't do that again, okay? It fucking hurts to be punched in the gut."

I felt my mouth twist up, but it didn't seem really appropriate to be smiling. "Sorry, but I didn't know what else to do. Is there any way we can get Gianna back?"

Edward shook his head. "No way that I can think of, and I doubt that anyone will be willing to help. Aro will pay a pretty penny to get his daughter back."

I sighed and sank down onto the couch. "Y'know, for a moment there, I really was afraid that you would hurt me."

Edward sighed as well and came to sit next to me. "For a moment there, I was afraid I'd have to. I thought you were trying to escape with Gianna."

"I was trying to get her out," I said. "I wanted her safely away from here."

"Why is it so important to keep her away from Aro?"

I turned away from him, not willing to answer that question. "Nothing, really."

"Bella." He used that _I-know-you're-bullshitting-me_ tone.

"You can use that tone all you want, and you're still not getting an answer."

"Bella!"

"Nice try."

"Look, if we want to save her—"

"You just said there's no way we can."

"But—"

"It's a lost cause, so quit fighting. I trust her enough to get herself out of there. When she does, I'll know she's safe."

And there lay my mistake.

"Hold it. What do you mean, _you'll know she's safe_? Is there some way to contact her or something?"

I grimaced and got up from the couch, uncomfortable with his proximity. Instead, I perched on the bed, one leg tucked under me. And I also happened to be in reach of his gun.

"You need to be honest with me," Edward demanded. "Tell me what you know."

I just looked at him. I knew for sure he wouldn't hurt me now, because I had his gun within my reach. I may not know how to shoot someone properly, but I'm pretty sure I knew how to scare someone with a gun.

"Bella," he growled, growing more impatient by the second. "Is there some secret line of communication? Are all the refugees we took bugged with microchips?"

I raised my eyebrows at his theories. In truth, it was a simple fact. Back before we'd all been abducted, the refugees had access to newspapers, if not TVs, most of the time. Gianna and I had made a pact – if she was captured, yet made it out safely, she'd send a message to me, via the news. She had access to this army's most dangerous explosives, and she would undoubtedly get her hands on a smaller weapon. If she got out okay, she would leave the weapon sitting in the middle of a public place – without arming it. Then, I would know for sure that it was her, because no one would leave it there unarmed.

It was quite a simple plan, devised effortlessly on our part. I just hoped I would be able to have access to a news station here. I could poke around.

Edward had stopped listing random theories, and was now looking at me again. "Bella, _please_ be honest with me."

I didn't say anything.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

I shook my head. I was sure that Edward was about to say something horrible to me, when a knock on a door interrupted his sentence.

He threw me a look that said _this is not over_, before strolling over to the door and opening it.

He was immediately assaulted by that same blond guy I'd seen earlier, and someone about the size of a bear.

"Eddie!" the bear yelled, wrapping him up in a huge hug. I couldn't help but giggle. It was a funny nickname.

"Let him breathe, Emmett," the blond guy said, who I now remembered was Jasper.

To my surprise, two girls came trailing in behind the soldiers. I could only assume that they were their refugees, just like I was Edward's. I was too busy taking in the entire scene to even smile at them.

One of them was petite and black-haired, with a slight spring in her step. The crinkles around her eyes indicated that she was usually smiling, but right now, she looked sadder than ever.

The other girl, well, let's just say I wasn't surprised that she was chosen to come here. She was as gorgeous as a model. Long silky blond hair that dropped to her waist, perfect figure, and an impeccable face. The only thing that seemed off about her was the defeated expression that she wore.

Once the blond girl and the tiny girl saw me, they both made a beeline for me. I moved the gun out of the way, and to my utter surprise, both of them collapsed on the bed.

I looked up to see Edward grinning amusedly, along with the other two soldiers. I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, so you're Edward's?" the bear asked me. I assumed that he was Emmett.

"I'm not his possession," I snarled.

From her spot on the bed, the blond girl looked up at me. "I like you. You're good."

"Thanks?" I said, not sure what to make of that compliment.

"Oh, pardon the rudeness," Edward said, and I made a face at him. "The one you just snarled at is Emmett. You've met Jasper. Rosalie's the blond, and Alice is the pixie."

I didn't like the way he spoke casually about the girls, as if they weren't even human beings at all. I decided I would take him up on it later.

Emmett seemed to catch sight of the cast on my foot, because he whistled.

"Damn, Eddie, been working her so hard that she can't even walk?" he asked.

I don't know why, but I saw red. _No one _was allowed to talk to me like that. Without even thinking, I picked up the gun from the bed and pointed it at him. Years of hearing guns being fired taught me to remember exactly where to place my hands, and all those trivial details.

I knew the gun was already cocked. I'd heard Edward do it when he put it at my head. But Emmett didn't need to know that.

I watched with a sort of sick satisfaction as Emmett turned pale. Getting up slowly from the bed, I kept the gun trained on him.

I decided now was the time for a little white lie.

"So I'm a possession, and now a sex toy," I started calmly. I was advancing slowly towards Emmett, who was backing away. I was wondering why he didn't pull his own gun out, but then realized he must have left it in his room. Stupid bastard.

"See, the thing about surprising people is that you don't tell them who you are at first," I continued. "For all you know, I could be an undercover assassin from the enemy side. Or I could just be another refugee. But you don't know whether I can shoot a gun or not, so until you figure that out, I suggest to refrain from aggravating me."

The stupid bastard was now backed fully against the wall, his eyes going wide.

"For all you know," I said, softly so that no one but him could hear. "I could be one of your relatives, and you'd never have the chance to find out."

Before he could react, I picked my uninjured foot up and kicked him squarely in the gut. I heard the whoosh of air as it raced out of his body, and I took the opportunity to also kick him where it hurts the most.

I stepped away, pleased with my handiwork, and walked back over to Edward.

Calmly, I placed the gun in his hands. "Next time, I won't hesitate to shoot."

I sauntered back over to the bed, where Alice and Rosalie were watching me with wide eyes.

"Everyone, out," Edward commanded, still staring unabashedly at me. Slowly, a terrified Emmett inched out, along with Jasper, Alice, and Rosalie. All still staring at me.

Once the door had shut behind them, Edward slowly crossed the room to where I was and placed the gun on the bed.

"Why?" was the only thing he said.

I shrugged. "Emmett offended me. What else was I supposed to do."

Edward took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Bella, I think it's time I be completely honest with you."

I felt a shiver go up my spine, though I didn't know why.

"Go ahead, Edward. I just have a gun in front of me, a heads up."

He chuckled dryly before taking another deep breath. "I was there the night your mother was killed," he said.

I felt like I was in shock.

"You…you were there?" I managed to get out.

He nodded, looking tortured. "That's not all. Bella, your sister, Jane…she's still alive."


	10. This Is For You

**Chapter 9: The Survivor**

**This Is For You**

**Bella Swan**

I don't like going back to that night, but whenever I do, all I hear is the wails of my baby sister as those soldiers shoot her.

_I was grabbed roughly and shoved towards the other side of the room. I heard another gunshot, and then my sister's screams of pain._

_ I wanted to die_.

Thinking back now, with a more logical perspective, I can see how she would still be alive. If she'd died right away, her screams would have faded off. But they didn't.

So, the question remained, _where is Jane_?

"Bella?" Edward's voice brought me back to the present, but it doesn't do much help. I am still frozen, going over every single last detail in my mind. _How can she be alive_?

Immediately, I started to feel angry at the soldiers who took me to the refugee camp. Why couldn't they see that someone else was alive in the room? Why wasn't she brought with me?

_Why isn't she dead_?

With monumental effort, I focused on Edward. He was worriedly perched in front of me, unknowingly making me angrier.

"You were there," I hissed. "You were there, and when I was taken, you didn't bring her with me?"

My voice slowly starts to rise with the anger, and I was having difficulty not attacking him right now. After all, the gun was still in front of me.

"Bella, it's not like that," Edward said hurriedly. "I wasn't there when…when she was shot. I only came there after you were gone, but I remember finding Jane. She was so tiny, I remember. She kept whispering your name – she wanted to know where you were, where your mom was—"

"Stop it!" I shrieked. His voice, his words, they were bringing back memories that I didn't want to dredge up. I didn't want to hear about how she'd screamed for me, because I already knew. I'd screamed for her in the exact same way.

I felt the tears running down my cheeks, but I didn't do anything to stop them.

Edward's arms slowly encircled me, drawing me into his addictive warmth. I was grateful for it, but all I was thinking about was Jane.

I smacked his chest, suddenly angry. "You were there!" I yelled. "And you didn't tell me sooner?"  
"I didn't know," he defended. "I didn't realize until I heard your middle name and her name."

"And-and you still didn't think to t-tell me?" It was harder to get the words out now. I was sobbing uncontrollably, mourning for the loss of my sister's childhood. Only the gods knew where she was now.

Edward stroked my back soothingly, and kissed my hair. "Shh….shh, it'll all be alright, Bella, I promise—"

I pushed him away. "It's your fault!" I screamed. "Those soldiers, my mother dying, Jane being taken away…nothing would have happened if it wasn't for your stupid side! Hell, the war wouldn't even _exist_ if it wasn't for the Volturi's greed!"

I was beyond any type of control at this point. My rational side knew I was overreacting, but what was I supposed to do?

"I'm sorry, love," Edward said, wrapping his arms around me again. I didn't fight him off. "I'm truly sorry. If I'd've known—"

"Where is she?" I demanded, the tears having stopped.

"Hm?"  
"_Where is my sister_?"

Edward was silent for a moment, before muttering, "I don't know."

"You don't _know_?"

He shook his head jerkily, as if not wanting to admit it.

I pushed him away from me again. "You tell me she's alive, and then you tell me you don't _know_ where she is?!"  
"Bella—" he said, trying to pull me close again.

I shoved his arms away. "Don't." I moved away from him to collapse on another couch, but he followed me. It was too much to process…the entire thing.

Jane was alive. Was she handicapped? The bullets had to have done _some_ damage. Why didn't she tell me she was alive? Why didn't she call out for me once the soldiers had left?

Why was Edward there? He couldn't've been older than fifteen or sixteen at the time…he'd joined the army that young?

And where was my little sister now?

I wanted to scream. So many questions and no answers. It was frustrating.

"We're going to find her," I decided. "I have to find her."

"What?" Edward said. "How on earth do you plan on doing that?"

"I don't know," I hissed, pulling at my hair. I was certain that I looked like a mad person when I did that. "I'm going to find her."

Edward moved closer once again, gathering me into his arms. "Bella, you have to understand, finding her is not going to be easy—"

"Fuck easy!" I screamed. "I'm going to fucking find her, no matter how hard it is!"  
Images were starting to rush through my brain, of Jane as a child, her sweet disposition, the times that I was more of a mother to her than our own mother…what her life had been these past four years. There were so many possibilities – she could have been sold as a slave to the other side, just like me, but she wouldn't've been used for sex…she was too young, still. She could have been put into a refugee camp, just like me, except with no knowledge of her surroundings. The last option was a long-shot, but there was a possibility that she was taken in by an adopted family, hopefully someone good.

No matter where she was now, I was going to find her.

Edward was stroking my hair softly, whispering little words of comfort into my ear. Suddenly, he stopped and turned my head around to face him.

"Bella, listen to me," he said, gripping my face with a determined fire in his eyes. "I'm going to help you find your sister. We can search her up on the military computers or something, but I'm going to help you find her."

I was shocked at this. If I'd hypothesized based on what he was like when I first knew him, I would have guessed that he'd flat-out refuse to let me even try searching for her.

"Why?" I whispered, curious as to why he'd suddenly wanted to help me.

"I feel bad for not telling you earlier, when I first figured it out. I feel bad that you had to go through this, I feel bad that I picked you out from the refugee camp. If I'd left you alone, you wouldn't be put through this. I fractured your ankle, forcefully kissed you twice…I just want to do _something_ to help."

He had literally rendered me speechless. I didn't know that he felt bad for taking me from the camp. I didn't know he felt bad for any of that shit that he inflicted on me. I didn't know that…he cared about me this way.

And I had never known that I cared about him to.

"Edward?" I said, tentatively. If something bad came out of what I was about do, I would never forgive myself.

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

He stared at me for a long minute. "God, I thought I'd never hear those words." He crashed his mouth down on mine.

The force of the kiss pushed me backwards onto the couch, and Edward's lean body soon covered mine. His mouth was so soft, so tender…and tasted_ amazing_.

He pulled away and looked at me, his eyes brighter than the sun itself.

"Thank you," he whispered, lifting me up off my back. I immediately cuddled into his chest, not ready to lose the warmth that his body provided.

"For what?"  
"For letting me do that. You have no idea how long I've waited."

"A week?"  
"How did you know?"

"That's exactly how long its been since you laid eyes on me for the first time." I chuckled.

"Oh. Right."

"Were you serious about helping me find Jane?"

"Of course! Why would I not be?"

I shrugged. "Maybe you just wanted me to kiss you."

"I was as surprised as you when you asked, Bella."

I smiled into his chest – his rock hard chest – and sighed. I was in a pretty happy place right now. His arm snaked around me, pulling me closer into the comfort of his body.

Just for this moment, I could be happy.


	11. We're Going to Make It

**Chapter 10: The Survivor**

**We're Going to Make It**

**Bella Swan**

I awoke, cuddled safely in Edward's arms. My back was pressed to his chest, and our legs were tangled together. For a minute, I felt happy, and then I remembered…Jane.

My little sister was out there, god knows where, having god knows what horrible things done to her. I felt like puking at the thought of her in the clutches of some enemy.

"I can practically hear you worrying," Edward's groggy voice said from behind me. "Stop it."

I smiled, despite my worried state. "What am I supposed to do?" I asked rhetorically, turning to face him.

His arms tightened around my waist. "No, don't move. I'm comfortable like this. And your hair smells good."

"What?" I asked, giggling. "My hair doesn't smell good."

"Yeah…tell that to my happy nose." He buried his face in my hair to emphasize his point.

My thoughts once again turned to Jane. "How are we going to find her?"

Edward's voice was muffled by my hair. "If she was taken by the soldiers, she'll probably have a record somewhere. Aro tends to like things all pretty and neat. Keeps records of every bad deed ever done."

I could hear the disdain in his voice. "If you hate it so much, why are you still in the army?"

I felt him nuzzling my hair again. He wanted to avoid the question. I would let it slide, for this time only.

He turned my face, so that I was looking him in the eye. His own eyes flitted back and forth between mine and my lips. "Can I kiss you?" he asked.

I inhaled sharply. I wasn't expecting it so soon again, but I wanted him to kiss me. I liked his mouth. Knowing I would probably regret it again later, I nodded.

It wasn't like yesterday, when he crashed his mouth to mine. Instead, he took his time, stroking my cheek lovingly and leaning in close.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, before touching his lips to mine once. He pulled back and looked at me questioningly.

I nodded again, my eyes still closed. He kissed me again, and I kissed him back, our lips moving in perfect sync. Tentatively, his tongue brushed against my bottom lip, but that was my limit. I pulled back.

"Sorry," he said immediately.

"Don't blame yourself," I reassured him. "I just don't want to do that." _Yet_, I added in my mind.

He sighed and tugged me over so I was facing him completely. "Are you afraid?"  
His question confused me. "Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of…what happened to Jane. What could have happened. Are you afraid for her?"

I inhaled sharply. Didn't he know that I was obviously scared for her? "I try to be optimistic," I said. "I hope that maybe she found a nice refugee camp, maybe she was taken in by a nice family – she was definitely young enough."

"So you focus on the positives."

I nodded.

"I wish I could do that sometimes. Hell, I wish that everyone could do that sometimes. Whenever a soldier goes MIA—"

"What's MIA?" I interrupted.

"Missing in Action," he answered. "Whenever that happens, everyone automatically assumes that they're dead. No one bothers to look for them or anything."

"I think that's what happened to my dad," I said. "No one heard from him for a long time, so they just told my mum that he was dead."

Edward laughed bitterly. "See how fucked up this world is? All because of a stupid war."

"Does anyone even know the real cause of the war anymore?" I asked sardonically.

"I doubt it," Edward said. "Aro wouldn't even tell the soldiers, even after we passed recruit ranks."

"Not even a little bit?"

"All he did was tell us that this war was important, and that we better give our hearts and our souls to it."

"How old were you when you joined?"

He sighed. "Fifteen. I was sixteen when I found Jane."

"What happened right after you found her?" It killed me to ask, but I had to know.

"I notified the leader of the raid who was with me. He took Jane, said he'd take her to the nearest refugee camp, and I never saw her again."

Something told me that she didn't make it to the refugee camp. I just had the worst feeling about it all.

"Are you thinking that she never made it to a camp?"

I nodded. "I just have a bad feeling about it…y'know?"

"I know," Edward agreed, his hand creeping up my back to press me closer to him. "I had that feeling when she was taken, but I didn't do anything about it."

I sighed. "D'you ever wonder what it would have been like if there was no war?"

"Every day," he admitted. "I wonder if I'd have known that baby brother or sister that I lost, if my mother would have died, but…if there was no war, I would have never met Jazz, or Emmett, or…you."

I looked up to see him gazing down at me with such emotion that I knew I was in trouble. I had no idea what loving someone other than family was like. I had no basis to compare to, and I was sure that even the last few years of her life, our mother didn't love Jane and I.

Smiling lightly, I pulled myself up and pressed my lips to his. He kissed me back, and after a minute, I broke away, unable to keep myself from smiling.

I was falling hard, and I didn't know what on earth I was going to do about it.


	12. Really?

**Chapter 11: The Survivor **

**Really?**

**Bella Swan**

I woke up the next morning to an empty bed. I rolled over sleepily, trying to figure out where Edward was, and came up with no such answer. I sat up, wishing there was some way to contact him. I was only a little bit comforted by the fact that he _had_ to come back to me. They would let me know if he was going to go back to war, right?

Sighing, I pulled myself out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. I took my time, taking a nice long shower to pamper myself. It was nice, having every day luxuries like these. I toweled myself thoroughly after getting out and dressed in a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top. I was more at ease around Edward now, a little bit less self-conscious.

I was curled up in one of the armchairs, my stomach grumbling slightly when Edward came bursting back into the room.

"I have news!" he yelled excitedly.

"Alright," I said, raising an eyebrow. "But where have you been?"

"I hacked into the computers," he said, his cheeks a bit flushed, probably from running. It did strange things to my body, to imagine him running.

"Why?" I asked, a bit confused.

"To find your sister!"  
The book flew unceremoniously out of my hands and straight across the room. "_Really?_ Did you find her?!" I was close to jumping up and down in my seat.

"Only one match for a Jane Swan in the entire computer, and there was a picture. She looks _so_ much like you!"

I was stock still. I couldn't believe it. A few minutes of effortless searching, and he'd found my sister. I was completely and utterly in shock.

"Where is she?" I asked, my heart pounding, unconsciously considering all the horrible possibilities.

"She's safe, she's fine," Edward said immediately, alleviating my fears. "She's in a home for little girls, on the other side of the country." Before I could speak, he rushed on. "There's a way to contact her, too."

It took a minute for all this to settle into my shock-mushed brain. Before I knew it, I was flying towards Edward, attacking him with a hug. He let out an _oomph_ as he caught me.

"Oh my god! Thank you so much!" I shrieked, probably nearly deafening him.

Edward collapsed to the couch, a bit taken aback by my weight, plus both my arms and legs wrapped around him.

"Whoa, little spider monkey," he laughed. "Don't be too stoic, now. Do you want to contact her?"

"What type of question is that? Of COURSE!" I yelled.

He winced. "Tone down the screaming, sweetheart. I like to have both functioning ears."

I smiled. "Sorry. I'm just excited. Do you have the picture of her with you?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't find a way to print it out, and I didn't have my phone with me to take a picture of the screen. I can go back tomorrow morning to get it if you want."

"Please?" I gave him my best puppy eyes.

"Don't pull the Bambi eyes on me, I'll do it anyway," he chuckled.

I smiled at him, overjoyed. I could finally get a portion of my family back, and it was all because of Edward.

"You are amazing," I said, leaning down to kiss him softly. I tried to show my adoration and gratitude to him in that kiss, but I wasn't entirely sure he got it.

"God, I love you," he muttered, pulling me closer to him.

I froze. _What?_

"Shit, I'm sorry," Edward said quickly, realizing I had gone silent. "Damnit, it wasn't meant to come out that way…I mean, I obviously mean it, I can't say I don't….but shit, I wanted to say it better…I don't need you to say it back, obviously, I'm really sorry, I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything—"

"Edward?" I said, tired of his rant.

He took a deep breath. "Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up, honey."

He let out a deep relieved, sigh. "Okay."

"And, Edward?"

"Yeah?" he said again.

"I think I love you, too."

The resounding kiss he gave me then was worth the very personal declaration that I had just made.

*O*

"So, we can call the home she's in and request to see her," Edward said, an hour later, after we'd had breakfast. "That would be the most practical way to contact her."

"I'm nervous," I admitted. "I don't know if she remembers me."

"Honestly, it's a very safe bet that she still remembers you," he said. "It's uncommon for children to forget significant people in their lives, no matter how young they are. If you practically raised her for a few years, she'd remember you."

I was slightly comforted by his statement, but still felt a bit of apprehension.

"You don't need to worry," he said, tucking me into his side. "I'm sure she'll love you no matter what."

"I really hope so," I said. "But it sucks, not having a father to greet her too."

"He could still be alive out there."

"That's a long shot. A very, very, long shot."

"It's not a crime to hope, is it?"

"Good point. You're more of a glass half-full type of person, aren't you?"

"And you're more a glass half-empty?" he countered.

"Well, thanks to my life, yes," I said, slightly sardonically. I wasn't really being resentful.

He squeezed my shoulders, letting me know soundlessly that he understood me. That was what I loved about living with him. He didn't offer false comfort whenever we discussed either of our pasts. It was nice to have someone truly understand what you had gone through and be able to relate.

"So when do you want to call her?" he asked, breaking our comfortable silence.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "How soon can we do it?"

"Now, if you want."

I shook my head vehemently. "I don't think I'm ready. Give me a day?"

"Whatever you want, sweetheart." He looked at his watch and then swore angrily.

"What?" I asked.

"I have to go for a unit meeting. A briefing on something."

"Are you going back out into the field?" I had just figured out that I loved him, I couldn't stand to be away from him for that long.

"I doubt it, so don't worry. They'd have let me know way ahead of time. It's probably just a surveillance mission."

He carefully extricated me from our embrace and set me gently on the couch. "I'll be back before you know it." He kissed me softly, and I reveled in the loving feeling between us. I had never been properly loved before, and I was truly savoring the feeling.

He had a soft smile on his face, probably mirroring my own expression. I was still smiling even after he had shut the door. I couldn't help but remember the self-entitled, violent soldier that kidnapped me and the loving young man that I knew now.

I must say, I was happy with the change.


	13. I'm Happy

**A/N: ****Hi...So um, I kinda finished this on my own. I felt it was near the end anyway, so...here you go. **

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Survivor**

**I'm Happy**

**Bella Swan**

For the first time in a very long time, I was happy with my life. My daily routine didn't change much – I still woke up next to Edward, kissed him good morning, told him I loved him, kissed him again, got up to shower, kissed him again – Yeah, you get the idea. But I was happy, and that was what mattered.

Two days after I told him I loved him, he came back to me with Jane's picture. And another note, stating that he had to go on a week-long surveillance mission. That pretty much burst my bubble.

"It's only a week," he mumbled into my hair, supporting me as I clung to him tightly.

"But what if something happens to you?"

"It won't."

"Are you one hundred percent positive of that?"

"Well, no…"

I just hugged him tighter.

Three hours later, he left, without me seeing him off, because the refugee captives were still not allowed out alone. I wondered if whoever made these rules knew that Edward and I had fallen in love.

_Fallen in love_. It was such a wonderful phrase, one that made me smile every time the thought crossed my mind. It was only this that got me through the week that Edward was away from me.

Well that, and Jane's picture.

Edward had hit the nail on the head when he said that she looked like me. If I didn't know better, I would think I was looking at a younger version of myself. Same brown hair, same brown eyes, same upturned nose, same bow lips…she really had inherited everything of mine. Her petite frame echoed my own, and made me hope even harder that nothing traumatic had happened to her in the three years we had been separated. I hoped that she had grown into a beautiful young girl with no scars in her past.

Exactly a week after Edward had left, I found myself pacing his room worriedly, my feet wearing a path into the floor. The hour hand struck three – _he was supposed to be here by now_ – and then the door flew open.

Without thinking, I jumped, and Edward caught me, much like the time I hugged him after finding Jane.

"It's okay, I'm here now," he said, kissing my forehead, cheek, nose, and finally, lips.

I don't think we came up for air for another hour. I also think my lips are going to be permanently chapped for the rest of my life due to that hour.

"So, did you miss me?" Edward asked, grinning his own special grin.

I rolled my eyes. "Like you even have to ask."

"Oh good, I thought there might have been someone else."

"Yeah, actually, there is. It's this dreamy, tall, green-eyed soldier that sweeps me off my feet—"

"Oh, shut up!" My dreamy, tall, green-eyed soldier swung a pillow at me, I jumped on top of him, and that turned into another making out session.

After inspecting his wounds (very thoroughly, _wink wink_), Edward and I were laying in bed that night when he brought up the topic of my sister again.

"So…when do you want to contact her?" he asked tentatively, as if trying not to surprise me.

I sighed into his chest, glad for his body heat on this cold night. "Tomorrow," I said decisively.

"Tomorrow?" he asked, surprised.

"Yeah, you know, the day that comes after today—"

"I get it, I get it. But are you sure?"

"I'm sure that I want to go find her. I'm sure that I want to know her again."

"I hate to bring this up, Bella, but…" He stopped.

"But what?" I prompted.

"What if she doesn't remember you?"

I was silent for a minute. What if she didn't? She had to, right? I was the only family she had left – she surely had to remember something of me.

"I think," I started. "I think if the most traumatic event in a lifetime happens at the age of four, people tend to remember that."

"Okay." And he didn't bring up the subject again.

The next day, he walked in with a pay-as-you-go disposable phone, a sheet of paper with a number on it, and told me to call.

I stared up at him. "Now?"

"Yes, now. Wasn't this your idea to do it today?"

"Yeah…but…" I looked at the phone. Then at the number. Then back up at Edward.

"Do it," he said. "You'll feel better."

I picked up the phone and began pressing the numbers, very, very slowly. Edward turned around to go into the closet.

"Where are you going?" I asked him.

He looked confused. "Don't you want to be alone for this phone call?"

I shook my head. "I want you here with me. Please?"

He smiled a breath-taking grin and pulled me onto his lap. I finished dialing the number and pressed send.

I was so glad that I'd decided to call today. A woman picked up the phone, stating that this was 'Red Cross Home for Young Girls'. My heart broke to imagine Jane in any kind of home that wasn't our own.

"May I speak to Jane Swan, please?" I said politely. I could feel myself shaking, despite the soothing motions of Edward's hands on my back.

"May I ask who is calling?" she replied, her tone suddenly more hostile.

"Tell her that it's her sister, Bella. Please, ma'am."

I could hear the lady's loud gasp. "You're Bella?"

I frowned. "Has she mentioned me before?"

"Oh, honey, it feels like you're all she ever talks about! She says she still remembers everything about you!"

The tears that I'd previously been holding back started making their way down my face. "Oh…please, ma'am, please give the phone to her."

She sniffled, apparently as emotional as I was. She yelled "Janie!" and a second later, my little sister picked up the phone.

"Bella?" she gasped. "Is it really you?"

I was sobbing at the sound of her voice. "You're all grown up," I cried. "I miss you."

It wasn't the ideal thing to say to a long-lost sister, but hey, I was me.

"Bellbell," she whispered, the childhood nickname trudging up memories from the darkest depths of my subconscious.

"Are you okay there?" I asked quickly. "What happened to you after that night?"

"Oh, you don't need to worry at all," Jane gushed. "I'm in an amazing place. Everyone's so nice here, they take great care of us. And…I don't really remember what happened, Bellbell. I just remember waking up here after that."

"I'm glad," I said. "I kept worrying about you, whether you were okay or not, and I'm so happy that I found you—"

"Can I see you?" she broke in.

I gasped. "Would you be allowed to? I want to see you so bad, Janie. I've missed you so much."

"Me too, Bell. We can't leave the home…could you come to me?"

I looked at Edward, who was apparently also listening to our conversation. He nodded furiously and mouthed, 'one week.'

"Give us one week, Janie. We'll be there for you in one week. I have the address."

"Oh, thank god," Jane sighed. "I was worried I'd have to go without seeing you. I have so many questions for you…and…I miss you."

"I love you, Janie," I said tearfully. "So much."

"I love you too, Bellbell. Mrs. Cope is bugging me, I have to get off the line. I'll see you in a week, right?"

"Of course," I said. "Love you."

"Love you too."

The kind voice of Mrs. Cope came back onto the line. "You'll be here in one week?" she asked.

"Yes, if that's okay?" I questioned, a bit worried that they wouldn't let me see her.

"No, that's fine. I trust that you have your own means of transportation?"

"Yes," I said gratefully. They were letting me see my sister. "Thank you so much."

"Thank _you_ for finding her," Mrs. Cope said softly.

I hung up the phone and looked at Edward, tears still flowing down my face. Without another word, I hugged him with everything I had. I had only him to thank for finding Jane, arranging the call…and everything else that now made me happy.

I kissed him with such passion that I'm surprised my heart didn't burst right out of my chest.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," I muttered between kisses. "I love you so much."

"You know I'd do anything for you," he said, and that made my heart swell even more.

Later that night, after working out all the details of how we were going to see Jane (it was kind of a given that he was coming with me), he lay me down softly on the bed and whispered in my ear, "I want to make love to you."

I shivered. His words had such an effect on me, and I think he knew it.

I looked him right in the eye and responded, "What's stopping you?"

Our clothes were off within the minute.

He had my body singing with another, and when I finally flew off the edge, he told me that he loved me so many times I'm sure he broke the world record for saying that phrase.

And exactly one week later, I said that same phrase to my baby sister for the first time in three years.

Now _this_ was what I called happy.


	14. Epilogue: Everything Comes Full Circle

**Epilogue: The Survivor**

**Everything Comes Full Circle**

**Edward Cullen**

Twelve years. It had been twelve years since I met Bella, nearly exactly to the day. My life couldn't have changed more.

After a very tearful and somewhat painful reunion with Jane (she kneed me in the balls for sleeping with her sister), I decided to quit the army. Fortunately for me, my enlistment was long since overdue, as I had only gone for two years. That left us free to move out as an official couple, and stay closer to Jane.

We had to wait another four years before the war ended. Both nations tired of fighting and resources greatly depleted, they agreed to a treaty that left all countries involved still paying off debts. And Bella and I could finally get married, on the four year anniversary of the day I'd met her for the first time. At twenty and twenty-three, people judged us for being young, absolutely sure that we'd divorce within the month.

I remember telling the judge who dubiously married us, "Never doubt a soldier."

Those were also the same words I said to Bella when I suspected that she was pregnant with our first child.

I'd been right every time since. We now had four beautiful children, all between the ages of one and eight. Needless to say, we had a full house.

I know that I will always regret never knowing who my father was, but I now know that I never will really need him in my life. I have Bella, my kids, and Jasper, who surprisingly now has a child with Jane and another one on the way. After his stint in the army was up, he came to find me, and…well, the rest is history.

Speaking of Jane and Jasper…

"Get the door, Edward!" My beautiful wife yelled from the kitchen. She was busy preparing dinner, leaving me to clean the house for our anniversary get together. Which meant only Jane and Jasper, because both sisters had wanted it that way.

I opened the door, greeting my two favorite in-laws with a huge smile. "Come in, guys."

"Hi, Edward," Jane said, waddling past me to collapse on the couch behind me. At eight months pregnant and with a tiny frame, she couldn't really stay on her feet for too long.

Jasper followed behind her, trying his best to hang on to their two-year-old daughter who seemed to have gotten into her head that she was a gymnast.

"Emma, daddy is not a jungle gym," I said sternly to her, watching her hang upside down from her father's arms. She launched herself into my arms, and Jasper gave me a very grateful look for holding her.

"They're here!" Renee, my eldest child shouted, peering over the banister to see our guests. And then the thundering of footsteps could be heard as my kids stampeded down to greet their family.

At eight, Renee was the mirror image of Bella, and by default, Jane. She had her mother's personality – which included the fiery temper, believe me. Contrastingly, she was also the most responsible and the general caretaker of her younger siblings.

Our six-year-old, Peter, was the troublemaker of the bunch. If anything could be blown up or set on fire, Peter would do it. His wide green eyes and brown hair combined the best of both Bella and me. His three-year-old brother, Matthew, was no better. Using his older brother as a role model, we had two pyromaniacs on our hands. However, Matthew was the spitting image of me. Tousled bronze hair and eyes as wild as his brother's, Bella sometimes said that she'd have trouble telling the two of us apart when he got to be older.

Our youngest and by far sweetest, was Lily, our one-year-old. She was our sweetest because she could not walk yet. Once she learned how to walk, I knew that I would have trouble keeping everything in our house intact.

As I watched my four children playing with their cousin, aunt, and uncle, I felt the presence of my wife behind me.

I turned around to see her smiling up at me, engrossed in watching the same scene. Folding her into my arms, I placed my chin on her head and let the love flowing through the air surround us.

She turned to face me. "Will it always be like this?"

"Be like what?" I asked, simply drinking in the atmosphere.

"I can _feel_ the love in the air," she stated.

I grinned. "I can too, believe me. I think that it will always be like this. After all, we've had enough sadness to last us both a lifetime."

"I hope you're right," Bella laughed. "I don't want to imagine anything else."

Later that night, as Bella and I were reading Peter and Matthew a fairytale bedtime story (Renee claimed she was too old and Lily wouldn't understand us anyway), Peter asked if we'd had a fairy tale romance, just like the characters in the book.

"Yes, we did," I smiled at my son.

And Bella, smiling her beautiful smile, added, "And we all lived happily ever after."

-THE END-

**A/N: Thank you for reading. **


	15. Epilogue Part 2: My Happy Ending

**A/N: Last installment :) **

* * *

**Epilogue Part 2: The Survivor**

**My Happy Ending**

**Bella Cullen**

Standing at the doorway to Peter and Matthew's room, I was once again overcome with love for Edward and our family.

"What's got you so silent tonight?" he asked, as we undressed for bed.

I shrugged, smiling. "Just happy. It's been twelve years, y'know?"

"Believe me, I know." He wrapped his arms around me from behind and nuzzled my hair. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

We were both pretty tired, and I assumed that my husband had fallen asleep right away.

Apparently he didn't.

"Bella?" he whispered, his breath hitting the back of my neck.

I turned over to face him. "Yeah?"

"There was a time in my life when I thought that being a soldier was the best it would ever get. Thank you for proving me wrong."

I felt the telltale sign of tears poking the corners of my eyes. "My silly, beautiful husband," I said, laughing. "You saved me from that refugee camp."

"Even though you had a bruise on your wrist for a week?"

"Even so," I said, snuggling into his chest. "Even so."

He sighed, a happy, contented sigh that warmed my heart from the inside out. After a while, his breathing evened out, and he was peacefully asleep while nearly smothering me with his crushing hug.

I couldn't be happier.

Like him, I remembered a time in my life when all I could see ahead of me was darkness, no light in sight. Little did he know that he was the sun to my earth, giving me life and warming me up again. I had so much to thank him for, so much of my happiness was his doing.

I had four beautiful kids, a loving husband, and a secure life.

My name is Bella Marie Cullen, and this is who I am.


End file.
